The First
by The Third Biker Scholar
Summary: A series of oneshots about how the bros adjust to life on Earth, and how Charley adjusted to them. Because there is so much that was left out of the series, that deserves to be known. And laughed at!
1. The First Shower

I always wondered if adjusting to life on another planet was as easy as the show portrayed it, and I started dreaming up some of the scenarios that would come about from it. Misunderstandings would abound, things would have to be learned, and they would all have to learn how to live together, right? So this is my little idea of how it all started.

Disclaimer: I'm so poor, I can't even pay attention. In no way, shape, or form do I own Biker Mice from Mars.

The First: Shower

It had been an amazing three days for Charlene Davidson. Not only had she found out that there were indeed aliens out there, they were already here, with world domination in mind. And then there were the only three good aliens out to stop the bad guys and save the Earth. It was like something out of a movie. Martian Mice, (otherwise known as really hot guys covered in fur), who'd crashed here without a place to stay and in need of a good mechanic.

That's where she'd come in. Charley had helped them repair their very sweet rides, (intelligent AI motorcycles that she was fairly certain she would sell her soul to ride), caught them up on the local culture, and was the current provider of room and board. This was definitely not what she'd expected when she'd woke up that day. Well, who would have ever thought in their wildest dreams that three aliens that loved bikes, root beer, and rock n' roll would come crashing into their life?

Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie were, without a doubt, the sweetest guys she'd ever met. Granted, a bit chauvinistic, but hey, nobody's perfect. She could put up with some male posturing if it meant they would stay with her a little longer. But the guys, being guys, had decided that they didn't want to put her in any more danger than necessary and therefore needed a different place to stay. They needed something that wouldn't connect her with them that Limberger could find. They'd found the perfect place in the Quigley scoreboard, and while they'd been working to make it livable, she'd been out furniture hunting.

The moment she'd first come home with a couch loaded in the back of her spare truck, the guys had frowned and looked upset. When she'd asked if something was the matter, all of them had quickly smiled and said nothing was wrong. She found out later, (through a lot of candy bribes with Vinnie), that they'd been worried for her. They could see how much work she did just to support herself, and now she was going out of her way to help them out. It smacked their pride that they couldn't pay her back somehow.

So all three biker mice from Mars had started working in her garage. They had quickly figured out how most Earth tech worked, (Throttle even went so far as to completely strip down a car engine and rebuild it to be sure he had it right), and had finished up most of her customers' repairs by the time she'd gotten home from her third furniture run. She'd immediately protested: she didn't ask them to stay so she could have free temp workers. The girl told them that they didn't need to take on her responsibilities, but Modo had insisted. The grey mouse had softly said that they didn't want to be a burden on her, she had enough to worry about.

Charley found herself smiling at his words. It would normally go against her pride to accept something like that, but they weren't trying to patronize her at all. Besides, how do you argue with someone like Modo? So while she went out raiding every Goodwill and Salvation Army store she could find in the Chicago area, they took care of her business. By the end of the third day, they had an entire apartment worth of stuff for a sweet bachelor pad. And every last bike, car, and truck in the shop was finished.

And all three mice were positively filthy.

Oil, grease, dirt, grime, you name it, it was embedded in their fur. They'd been crashing in her guest room, and she shuddered to think of all that muck on the bed. With a smirk, the mechanic shooed the trio up the stairs and told them to get showered. The mice glanced at each other with a confused look on their faces, and Vinnie decided to be the brave one and ask, "Um, Charley? What's a shower?"

She blinked in surprise. "Ah, the stall in the bathroom. You know, water shoots out, you get washed, stuff like that?"

Throttle looked amazed. "Water? You wash with water?"

A horrible thought struck her (Insert mental image of licking clean here) and she had to ask. "What else do you wash with?"

He shrugged, "Most Martian ships use a light recyclers to disintegrate anything out of your fur."

Vinnie nodded. "We've been trying to figure out where you keep yours."

She couldn't help her laughter. "Guys, Earth doesn't have anything like that. We just use water to wash off." She glanced at all the gunk in their fur, "And soap. Lots of soap."

Modo stared in shock. "You actually use water, Miss Charley? You're not joking?"

"Why would I joke about that"--it hit her like a ton of bricks. They came from a _desert_planet, where water was precious even before the Plutarkians came and stole the rest of it. Why waste it on washing if you had another way to get clean? "Sorry," she said, "wasn't thinking. C'mon," she motioned them to follow her. "Let me show you how this works."

Charley was very proud of her plumbing system. She'd actually redid it all herself, installing two extra-large industrial strength water heaters so that she would never run out of hot water. She'd torn out the old tub and stalls throughout the garage, putting in a deluxe two person shower in the guest room and a traditional claw foot tub in her room, with a new shower stall in the basement. Even the shower heads were adjustable to different strengths and water patterns to help soothe tight muscles after a long day fighting with an engine block. She hoped they liked it.

She led them back into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower jets. Charley adjusted the water temp and motioned to the guys, who were staring in wonder. "Soap's on the rack, extra washcloths are under the sink, and towels are in the cabinet there." She patted Throttle on the shoulder, making a face at the dirt that stuck to her hand. All three winced at the stuff on her hand, and the other two mice backed away from their friend. Charley shook her head, "Have fun, Throttle. Just leave your clothes in the hamper and I'll bring up a pair of jeans for you, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, a slight blush on his face.

Vinnie looked distinctly impressed. "So when's our day for the shower, huh?"

She frowned in confusion, "What do you mean?"

The white mouse shrugged. "Thursdays are Throttle's day, so when do you want us to take our showers?" He wagged his eyebrows at her, "Or do you like it when guys are dirty?"

"Vinnie!" Modo said in shock.

"I like my guys clean, thank you very much," she said sarcastically. "So that completely eradicates you from the list. But why would you space out your days to shower?"--Charley realised this went back to the 'water-being-precious' thing. "Oh, yeah, right. You can get in as soon as he's done, you don't have to wait. Or whatever order you want, it's up to you. There should be plenty of hot water, so stay in as long as you want."

"Are you serious, Miss Charley, ma'am? We can really stay in there for as long as we want?" Modo said in wonder.

"Yep," she said cheerfully. "C'mon guys, give the mouse a little privacy, yeah?" They all filed out and headed back downstairs to wait. She popped in a James Bomb movie, which the mice loved. (She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Let's hear it for the universal male love of hot chicks, big guns, and explosions.) Halfway through the movie, she went up to check on the tan mouse. He'd been in there for almost an hour, and she was starting to get worried. She knocked on the door, "Throttle? You okay?"

The door slowly opened, steam pouring out. A very hot, very damp, and very _hot-looking_ mouse slowly stepped out, the spikes of his wet hair sticking out at odd angles from where he'd toweled it off. He had an almost dazed look on his face, his glasses fogged and slightly off kilter on his face. "Hi, Charley," he said softly.

Freshly scrubbed Martian was a dangerous look, Charley decided. And then she happened to glance down. All she had bought them for clothing, since all three seemed to have an aversion to shirts, were several pairs of jeans. So all Throttle was wearing was a pair of mens low-rise faded blue jeans. Her eyes went wide in appreciation. _Dear God, you were having a really good day when you made this mouse_, she thought. Her eyes were drawn down to the waistband of his jeans. _Oh lordy, are those Adonis lines?_

"Charley?"

"Um, yeah, hi," she stammered. She mentally shook her head to clear it. Down, girl. "You okay? You were in there for an hour."

"Really?" he said in surprise. "I'm sorry, are Vinnie and Modo gettin' pushy on ya'?"

"Nah, I've got them entertained. They should be pretty oblivious to just about anything for a little bit longer. So did you like it? The shower, I mean," she said with a smile.

Throttle paused before he answered. The spray had pounded against him like his fading memories of rain, the roar of water like thunder in his ears. His muscles had slowly began to unwind, even his constant thinking had slowed and finally crashed to a halt. The tan mouse couldn't remember if he'd ever felt so relaxed in his entire life. For that small piece of time, he let go of his memories, the responsibilities, everything that kept him awake into the long hours of the night. The water had flowed over his body like liquid heat, soothing him in ways he didn't know existed. It had felt like he was whole and normal again, like he was before the  
war.

He had tilted back his head and let the water run into his eyes, blinking hard at the feeling against the mechanical optics. It was like rinsing the taint off them, the memory of Karbunkle using scalpels and needles and things he didn't dare name even in his dreams on his face where his own eyes used to be.

The soap had foamed in his fur, almost tickling him as it stripped out the dirt and oil from him. He began to scrub as he remembered his time in the Plutarkian prisons, when his blood and dirt from rotting things on the cell floor and the tears of his friends had stained his fur like a permanent dye. He had poured some of the stuff their girl had called shampoo into his hands and worked it into his mane. It had a very gentle scent, the same that Charley had on her skin, and somehow it reminded him of home. He remembered the time back when he'd been little, playing in the yard outside his house, rolling in the thick blue-purple grass, and hearing his mom call him in before it started to rain.

And the water rinsed all of it away, even the slight bit of blood from the scratches he'd given himself with his scrubbing. He let it all go, his mind going blank for the first time in ages, and just enjoyed the feeling of the water around him.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Loved it."

&

let me know what you think of it!


	2. The First Haircut

I always wondered who trims Throttle's hair, and this was my answer. Charley, the lucky girl...

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mice, Charley, or those lucky scissors.

The First: Haircut

Throttle growled to himself as he pulled off his helmet, wincing as strands of his mane caught on a strap. With a sharp yank, he pulled it loose, taking most of the tangled hair with it. He sighed, glad to finally get to the garage.

It was ten o'clock at night, his bros at the scoreboard to catch the latest football game. If Vinnie caught word that he needed help with his mane, he would have never heard the end of it, thus the late run. He had come over wondering if he could borrow a set of Charley's scissors to just cut the blasted stuff off. He came up off his bike, walking towards the soft sounds of the kitchen.

Charley was still awake, too wound up from working on her latest project. The remains of a small dinner was off to one side of the table, the rest of the surface covered with sketches and figures for her design. She was sitting with her hair disheveled and twisted up with a clip, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a frown on her face.

"Am I interrupting?" he said softly from the doorway.

She startled a bit before smiling broadly. "Throttle! What brings you here so late?"

"Just needing to borrow a pair of scissors," he said. He gestured to his tangled hair. "This is getting on my nerves. I can't believe how fast my mane grows on this planet."

"You're going to cut your hair?" she asked.

He frowned slightly at her unhappy tone. "Its getting too long, and it keeps getting caught on my helmet," he explained. "I normally don't let it grow out past a couple of inches."

"And you're going to cut it yourself?"

"Who else?"

She shook her head at him. "Oh, no," she said. "Don't you dare cut that stuff yourself. Sit right here," she motioned to the chair as she stood from the table. "I'll go get a few things, and I'll take care of it."

"You don't have to, I can get it myself. You might not believe this, but I've been doing it for years," he said.

"And now you don't have to," she said with a smile as she walked out of the room. She was back in a few minutes with scissors, a comb, a towel, shampoo, and another bottle that he hadn't seen before. "Um, Charley? What's all this for?"

"Your haircut," she said matter-of-factly. "A full wash, rinse, and style."

"All that? For a haircut?" he said in disbelief.

"No, for a proper haircut," she insisted. "Your hair is too pretty to just hack it off."

He gave her a look. "A guy's hair is not _pretty_, Charley."

"Ok, its beautiful, now will you stop fussing, get your glasses off, and get over here?" She had him stand and lean over the sink and wet his hair down. But when he reached for the shampoo, she shook her head. "Nope, I said this is gonna be a proper haircut, and that means I take care of everything. So just relax and let me do my stuff," she insisted. She poured a small amount in her palm and began to lather it in his hair. It had a very light scent, like apples. He gasped a bit as her fingers began to rub against his scalp, almost like a massage.

She immediately stopped at his gasp, "Did I get soap in your eyes?"

"No, it--that just felt good," he said.

"Oh", she said, very grateful that he couldn't see her blush. _Didn't mean to start rubbing on him_, she thought. The blush intensified as she replayed that thought to herself. _Good lord, when did I get such a dirty mind? Suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that three of the finest male bodies on Earth or Mars make a constant trip to my house. Nope, nothing to do with that at all._

She worked carefully around his antennae, almost afraid to touch them. Anything capable of helping the psychic mouse read her mind was probably incredibly sensitive. She took the opportunity to study them a bit, without seeming rude for staring. They were five inches long and about the thickness of her middle finger, curving back slightly from his forehead. The skin, (no fur here), was a light red and looked soft to the touch. She wondered if he would mind it if she touched them. _Probably_, she thought to herself.

She finished shampooing and carefully rinsed, mindful of getting too much water in his ears. The girl held him still when he moved to get up, telling him that she had one last bit to do and then they were done. She brought out the conditioner, working a larger bit into his hair than she would normally use on herself. Those tangles looked nasty, so she'd need all the help she could get to comb them out. A quick rinse later and he was toweling the water out of his freshly scrubbed hair.

"Now what?" he asked, figuring this was her show and he was just along for the ride.

"Now sit," she said with a laugh, "and I'll start combing all this out."

He couldn't help his flinch when she said that. Carbine used to comb his hair back on Mars, and normally took a good chunk of it out by the time she was done. But Charley was willing to go to so much trouble, he supposed he could suck it up this once and go buy a pair of scissors later. She stood behind him and lifted up the comb, and he waited for the pulling to start. He felt the barest tug as she started from the ends, taking hold of any stubborn snarls to lessen the pull. She carefully worked at each tangle, not wanting to rip the hair and make everything go uneven. And she was especially careful around his ears. Scraping against her own human ears hurt like hell. How much worse would it be on his Martian ears? She didn't want to find out.

Throttle was genuinely surprised at how she was doing this. Her motions were slow and gentle, her fingers running through his hair like she was touching something precious. She was treating him like he was made of glass, and no one had ever done that before. (What surprised him even more was that he kind of liked it.)

She kept combing until his hair was slightly dry, loving the feel of it running between her fingers. It was a deep tan color, putting her in mind of thick caramel. Caramel silk that came down till it just touched his shoulders. Oh, yum.

With great reluctance, she picked up the scissors. "So how much do you want off?"

"About three inches," he said in sleepy voice. Her combing his hair had nearly put him to sleep, she kept her touch so gentle.

"So much?"

"I normally keep it shorter than that," he said.

"Okay," she replied. The scissors began to move, snipping and trimming that beautiful hair. She cut a slight edge, the back slightly shorter than the top. _Oh, this had to be some kind of a crime_, she thought to herself. _His hair is too pretty to cut, no matter what he says_. She finger-combed a stubborn lock into submission by his ear and began to trim it. He shivered suddenly, and she instantly stilled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, "just felt the metal near my ears."

"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "I'll be more careful." She slowly continued to snip away.

Throttle felt like a heel for making her apologize for no reason, but he couldn't tell her the truth. The mouse could feel her breath against the super-sensitive fur of his ears and neck, a soft warmth that sent messages to very inappropriate parts of his body. He tried ignoring it, after all, it was just because he hadn't been this close to a pretty girl in almost five years. Right?

But then her fingers had brushed against the edge of his ear, sending a dangerous warmth through his body and making him shiver. He brought up several memories of fighting beside Carbine, holding her on their first date, the feel of her kiss--okay, not the best things to be thinking of when trying to calm his body _down_.

Charley smiled at the sight of her work. "Almost done," she said cheerfully. "Do you want me to try my hand at trimming your bangs?"

"What's with this 'try' business?" he said in mock nervousness. He found himself smiling back at her happy look. "Sure thing, babe. But just a trim, okay? I think I want to let them grow out so I can pull it back later."

"You got it," she said, moving to his front and very carefully combing out the hair that formed his bangs. He closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the suddenly very tempting body right in front of him. _I've been without Carbine for way too long_, he thought. _This is a human female, she wouldn't be interested in a Martian. Although, with the way she and Vinnie have been flirting lately_--all thought was suddenly driven right out of his head.

She had barely brushed the back of one finger against his antennae. The result was a sudden rush of sensation throughout his body. He froze in place, unable to process any thought other than 'wow, that feels nice.' It was starting to take effort to keep his breathing steady.

Charley brushed the soft bangs back away from his face, a triumphant grin forming as she finished. "You're all done! Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I'll wait until I see it, babe," he said as he walked over to the small mirror hanging in the hall. He smiled, "It looks great, Charley-babe. Thanks."

"Just glad I could help."

"So what do I owe you?"

She laughed, "Just promise me you'll never cut your own hair again and we're square."

"Deal," he said. As she walked back to the kitchen to sweep up the hair that had fallen to the floor, he discreetly adjusted his now very tight jeans.


	3. The First Storm

I figured if you were from a planet with a destroyed ecosystem, weather would be a crazy thing to witness. I mean, think about it. Water, falling from the sky? For us, normal, but for Martians? That would be like humans seeing gold falling out of the bright blue sky. A happy thing, but still weird.

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, how terribly sad...

The First: Storm

Vinnie's head lolled against the back of the couch, arms stretched out in relaxation. "Charley-girl, you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she teased from the kitchen.

"Just the ones that bring him food," Throttle said with a smirk from his place on the recliner. His eyes closed as he breathed out slowly, unwinding from their second run-in with Limburger to date. A long shower had done wonders to relax them already, but Charley had promised a hot meal and some more of her favorite movies. None of them had been able to resist that offer.

Normally, a girl offering a night of her fave movies would have them in the hospital for an overdose of 'chick flick', but this girl had good taste. Most of her stuff was action, with some seriously funny comedies in the mix. She only had three tearjerkers on her shelf, to their surprise. When Modo had asked why, she gave him an odd look. "I like a good cry every now and then, not all the time, honey," she'd said in confusion at his confusion. "Not every girl is in love with Leonardo DiCaprio." They hadn't known who that 'DiCaprio' was, but they got the gist of it.

Modo used his tail to tap Vinnie's shoulder as he walked in from the kitchen carrying most of the food, making the younger mouse spring up to help set it all out. Throttle immediately pitched in, clearing the small coffe table of stuff and placing it all off to the side of the couch so it wouldn't get lost. After the ripping the grey mouse had given them about their manners in front of Charley, they had been scrambling to behave ever since. The girl walked slowly in, her arms loaded with root beer for them and a few cream sodas for her. Throttle took the majority of them from her arms with a smile as everything was finally ready for dinner.

Vinnie flipped the tv on as he dug into his first dog of the night, barely paying attention to the screen as he savored the first bite. The other boys didn't see it either, but Charley noticed the white scrolling letters across the bottom of the screen. She frowned as it went on and then sighed, getting up from the couch.

"We forget somethin', Miss Charley?" Modo asked as he saw her go.

"Nah, just need to get something from my room," she replied. She came back a few minutes later with some flashlights, a small radio, and some extra blankets. Throttle frowned at the sight, "Charley, you don't have to camp out on the floor, there's plenty of room on the couch."

"Oh, its not for that," she said. "I just want to be ready in case"--

_**KRA-KA-BOOOOOOM!!**_

She screamed as arms suddenly tackled her and pulled her to the ground. The lights of the garage flickered and died, the tv blanking out. There was nothing but the sound of harsh breathing for a moment, all three mice tensed in the dark. Charley trembled from her place underneath a very heavy mouse, recovering from the shock of the trip to the ground. She drew in a shaky breath, (_'Never seen anyone move that fast before_,' she thought), "Um, who's got me?"

"Me," Modo said quietly. "You hurt, Miss Charley?"

"No," she replied shakily. "You just startled me." She swallowed hard in embarrassment over their position. "Modo, honey? You can let me up now."

"Not a good idea," Throttle whispered from somewhere to her left. "We don't know if that was the one bomb or first in a wave."

"I don't fully recognize the sound pattern, but it doesn't sound like scutters or hill types," Vinnie said, a serious tone she had never heard before in his voice. "Could be an EMP-based"--

White brilliant light suddenly flashed from outside the windows. It lit the room enough for the human girl to see the faces of her three friends staring out the window with shocked looks of mingled horror and fright. Modo's arms contracted around her, and he pressed his face into her shoulder as the light ended. The garage shook with the force of the sonic wave that followed two seconds later.

When it finally died away, there was total stillness for a full minute before anyone spoke. "Everyone still alive?" Throttle asked, his voice shaking.

"Yeah," Vinnie said, not much better off than his bro. "Modo, how're you and Charley?"

"I'm fine," he said softly, pushing up from her slightly. "Miss Charley?"

"Alright, enough's enough," her voice rang out suprisingly loud in the dark. "Let me up, right now."

"Charley, its not safe"--

"Do you trust me?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" she said.

A hesitant yes came from the mice.

"Then trust me to know what to do," she said. "Throttle, can you find those flashlights I had?"

"I've got one by me," Vinnie said.

"Turn it on and hand it over," she said firmly. The bright beam of light was startling, but a welcome sight as the white mouse searched and found his human friend in the darkness. He gave over the flashlight as Modo moved to let her up. "Okay guys, I'll be right back"--

"Where are you going?"

"To the fuse box," she said. "I'll try and get the power turned back on, but I'm betting the hit took out the power lines down the street. I've got a backup generator, but i'd rather not use it unless we absolutely have too. I won't be gone five minutes, okay?" She sent the light across the room looking for the other devices, spotting the rest by the edge of the coffe table. She handed them out before she left, promising to be careful as she went.

None of them turned the lights on, not wanting to give their positions away to anyone that might be outside the garage doors. Nothing but silence filled the garage as the mice strained to hear her footsteps. An odd thrumming noise suddenly sounded against the roof of the building, all three tensing as it drowned out her footfalls. It sounded like something constantly hitting the ceiling, and lots of it, and it was driving Modo crazy. "Has it been five minutes yet?" he said anxiously.

"No, just three," Throttle replied.

"You think she's okay by herself?" Vinnie asked softly.

"She said for us to trust her," the leader said. "So we trust her to be okay."

"I really hate when you say things like that," the young mouse huffed under his breath.

Quiet seconds ticked by. Suddenly a small bright light cut through the dark and she was back with them. "Sorry, but its the lines down the way that are out. We should be fine for now, but i'd rather we moved this upstairs."

"Upstairs? Are you nuts?!" Vinnie said in open-mouthed shock.

"Trust me," she stressed, "I promise you, this will be okay. Follow me, alright? You all need to see this to believe it." She turned and headed for the stairs to the bedrooms, hearing very nervous mice follow after her. Their reactions earlier had triggered a memory for Charley, of her beloved uncle Ryan who had been a Vietnam veteran. Sometimes loud noises and bright lights brought on memories of his time in the war. The human girl figured the Martian mice were no different in this reguard, so she needed to show them proof that they were afraid of nothing more than memories.

She brought them to her room, pushing open the door and motioning them inside. All three hesitantly walked in behind her, crowding around her bed in the smaller room. She moved to the wall and pulled back a curtain that covered the door to her small balcony that faced the city, revealing--

"A glass door?!" Throttle said in horror. "Charley, are you crazy?! You can't stay here in the middle of"--

The sight of brilliant white lighting arching across the midnight sky lit the room. The Martian mice froze in place, staring outside. "By my grey furred momma," Modo breathed softly. "Its raining." Rain was pouring down, splashing against the roof and flooding the gutters, spilling off to the ground. Smaller bolts of lightning were shooting down around the city, making the clouds visable as black and purple smudges in the sky. Thunder was echoing everywhere, never fading as the storm raged on.

"I--I've never seen it rain before," Vinnie said in wonder. "I think I was three the last time it happened on Mars."

"I was five," Throttle breathed, sitting down on her bed to watch the storm and take it all in. "I don't remember anything like this."

"That's Chicago weather for you," Charley said quietly. "Sometimes it just lets loose on you like this. I love storm watching, so I put in the door so I could watch all I wanted and not get wet." She smiled at them, "I'll go get the rest of dinner and bring it up here, okay? Might as well enjoy the show."

"Thank you, Miss Charley, ma'am," Modo said as he sat down on the carpeted floor, eye glued to the storm outside. The mice watched in dazed awe as streaks of light lit the sky like fireworks, the thunder strong enough to shake the large doors downstairs. The wind picked up and started to howl outside, tossing the clouds across the eastern half of the city and sending them down to the southeast. They could see huge thunderheads, the lightning inside the massive formations letting them be seen like it was still daylight.

Charley brought up the dogs and sodas, Vinnie quickly heading down to get the blankets and radio she had taken to them earlier. Everyone settled in for the night, a comfortable silence only broken by the sound of the thunder.


	4. The First Impression

What did the mice really think about their new human friend when they first met her? My idea of what Modo was thinking.

Disclaimer: No own the hunky mice, but a girl can dream...

The First: Impression

Modo kept fairly quiet that first night at the garage. He was still struck with wonder at this new world they were in. Earth was gorgeous. Blue sky above with white clouds of water vapor, green plants living and growing everywhere, and a kind human girl that had taken them in.

Her name was Charlene Davidson, 'Charley' to her friends. He had to admit to some surprise that she told them her clan name, but he was beginning to suspect that that was the custom on this planet. And honestly, at first, he thought for sure she was joking with them. Surely she was joking; a bike mechanic with that name. But it wasn't a joke. When Vinnie had asked in a teasing voice if that was her real name, she had smacked his arm and told him that her father had wanted a boy, so she was stuck with it.

She was very pretty, with fair skin spotted with small brown dots that he later learned were called freckles on her cheeks and nose. The lack of fur, antennae, and tail was startling, but it somehow seemed to suit the girl, (as well it should as she was born that way, he reminded himself). Her mane was thick with brown and red hair mixed together like he had rarely seen on Mars. She was--not thin, not scrawny, but very fine-boned, almost delicate looking. But she was no weakling; her hands were covered in callouses, proof of long days of hard work. The muscles of her arms were defined but not overly so, and she carried herself with the confidence of someone that knew what their body could do. She was young, couldn't be more than twenty-three, and lived by herself from what he could tell. He wondered why someone like her was all alone.

But what really struck him about her appearance were her eyes. They constantly shifted from blue to green to a dazzling mix of the two colors, and it almost seemed to reflect her mood. When she'd been angry at Greasepit, they'd snapped an icy blue. When she'd met them, they turned at deeper shade of cobalt in worry. When Throttle had walked through her mind, (scaring the other two mice badly, as the tan mouse had never mind-walked with an alien before) they had turned to a hazy light green. And when she had welcomed them with a smile to her home, the Last Chance Garage, they had almost glowed a soft emerald.

He made a mental note to himself to chew out his two freinds later on for acting rude as their first meal on Earth went on. This was not their finest hour, manners-wise. Granted, it had been way too long since the last time they'd had anything like real food, or at least food that tasted good. So he supposed that he could let it slide just this once. But afterwards, they would have to watch how they acted in front of a lady.

And Charlene Davidson was a lady, in the truest sense of the word.

Modo was often told by Throttle that he had very good instincts, and had sometimes been used by the Resistance to test out new recruits to search for spies. The grey mouse wasn't sure just how good he actually was at the job, but always tried his best to listen to his instincts when it came to new people. Quiet observation, casual glances, just seeing how they reacted to things that he or his bros would say were often all he needed to make his opinion of any person they met.

And his opinion was that she was very high class. She moved with grace, sitting up straight with barely a slouch, showing classical training even when she ate. Small bites to actually taste her food, never once talking with her mouth full, always swallowing before she said anything to them. Only when she'd finished her own food did she lean her head on her hand to listen to the three mice talk. She played the hostess with style, barely disturbing their conversations whenever she brought out more food or took plates out of the room.

But the part that really said that she was a lady was that she never made them feel awkward. Anyone else that showed manners like that would have made the three mice uncomfortable, or would have had them unconsciously changing how they acted to blend in better. She gave off an aura of acceptance, so none of them felt any differently about how they acted. This girl was a keeper, Modo thought to himself.

She was genuine in her emotions, nothing coy or catty.

Her smile was honest and sweet.

And her eyes echoed with loneliness.


	5. The First Popsicle

Disclaimer: I don't own Biker Mice, if I did, Charley and Throttle would be married with six kids by now. I also don't own Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

The First Popsicle

"I'm feelin' sorry for any bad biker on the road today, rock n' rollers, cause it's now a scorchin' 101 degrees out there in Chi-town. Better keep in the pool or by the a/c, bros, there ain't gonna be a cool down for another week," said the voice of Sweet Georgie Brown over Charley's old radio.

"Aw, turn it off," Vinnie moaned from his spot on the cool concrete floor of the garage. "Its hot enough just in here!"

"Yeah, don't need to know how hot it is outside too," Modo groused from his seat on the couch, one arm and his tail waving fans at himself.

"Quit your cryin'," Throttle snapped as he almost twisted the off knob off the radio. "At least you're both short hairs. I'm ready to shave my fur off if it'll cool me down."

Chicago had been in the grip of one of the worst heatwaves it had known in a long time. The mice had checked to see if Limburger was behind it, destroying another Tower in the process, but that wasn't the case. At least they had gotten some fun out of making Limburger shell out for another construction contract.

It wouldn't have been quite so bad if the air conditioning hadn't gone out at the scoreboard. The mice had been forced to temporarily move in with Charley. She didn't mind, really she didn't, but all three guys were shedding something feirce. It was _everywhere_. From the shop to the couch to somehow even in the fridge, grey, tan, and white fur was all over her home. She'd gone through five vacuums trying to clean it all, four of which had clogged and somehow caught fire before exploding. Number five was barely holding on to life, but the mechanic figured the only reason it was was that the boys could only shed so much, and were starting to run out of fur.

The poor mice were positively _miserable_. It only got this hot in the worst deserts of Mars, so the guys had no experience dealing with this sort of weather. And it wasn't just hot, it was humid too. Charley had been philosophical about it, saying that Chicago weather was always unpredictable. At least the forecast said that a nice cold front with lots of cooling thunderstorms was due in a few days, but for now, they would just have to suffer.

Throttle was practically living in front of the a/c vent, with his longer fur causing him to be hotter than his bros. The extra insulation was making the normally even-tempered mouse very cranky, shorting the fuse of his anger considerably. Both his bros were keeping a safe distance away from him until the weather changed.

A banging on the door had Modo up from his spot on the couch to open it for a grocery-laden mechanic. He took three of the four bags from her arms as he moved to let her in. "Hey, Miss Charley. How'd the shopping go?"

"Same old thing," she said with a smile, putting the last bag on the kitchen counter. "But I've got a few presents for you guys."

"Presents?" Vinnie said eagerly. "What kind of presents, doll-face?"

"Check this out," she said, unwrapping a large box. "An inflatable adult size pool. Load it up with cold water, and"--

"Instantly chilled mouse," Throttle said, taking it from her hands and heading for the air pump. He stopped mid-step and turned back, giving the girl a grateful kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Charley-girl."

"No problem," she said with a slight blush. She adopted a game-show host's voice as she said, "But wait, there's more!" She switched back to her normal tone with a laugh, "I've got a few old fashioned treats you guys might like."

"Like what?" Modo asked.

She pulled out several boxes from the grocery bags. "Boys, let me present to you the greatest summertime invention in the history of mankind."

"We've already met the air conditioner," Throttle called over the sound of the air pump.

"Har, har," she said sarcastically. She pried open the first box revealing a brown colored soft brick of--something, taking a large spoon from a drawer and scooping some up for them to try. "This is chocolate ice cream. Here, big guy, try some."

Modo shrugged as he took a bite. He froze in place as the sweet stuff melted on his tongue, and his eye closed in pleasure. "Oh, mama," he said softly. "That tastes great, Miss Charley!"

"Let me try some," Vinnie said, taking another spoon and taking a huge bite. He gasped as the cold hit his mouth and the sugar exploded. "Oh my god! Throttle! Get over here, mouse, you've got to try this!"

The leader reluctantly left his project of filling the pool up with ice water and tried some of the sweet treat. "Whoa. What's this called again?"

"Chocolate ice cream," she said, smiling at the looks on their faces. All three looked like little kids with a new toy. "And that's not the only flavor I've got. Vanilla, strawberry--you'll like that one, Modo--mint chocolate, sherbet. I've even got some pistachio, which tastes a lot better than you might think with a name like that." She then pulled out some small pints of ice cream with wild sounding names.

"Cherry Garcia? What kind of flavor is that?" Vinnie asked.

"Its cherry flavored with a twist, its delicious, and don't you lay one finger on it, Vinnie Van Wham. At least without asking, okay?"

"Bikers honor, babe," he promised.

"Is it good?" Modo asked.

"Oh yeah, its good," Charley said happily. "Modo, you like coffee, you should try the 'From Russia with Buzz', its the bastard love child of coffee and caffeine."

Throttle chuckled at that. He'd never seen her so passionate about anything that didn't involve a machine. "You really like ice cream, don't you, Charley?"

"Who doesn't?" she asked rhetorically. "Oh, I've also got some Popsicles if you're not in the mood for something that sweet."

"Popsicles?" Vinnie asked.

"Those are like frozen ice on a stick, so its more portable than lugging a bowl of ice cream around. I bought the regular juice kind and I got some of the kind that taste like a root beer float if you all want to try some. And I bought some of the fruit smoothie flavors," she said as she put the rest of the frozen treats in the freezer. The girl pulled out a strawberry smoothie Popsicle and unwrapped it as she sat beside the mice.

"Thanks for going to so much trouble, Charley," Throttle said.

"Ah, its nothing." She couldn't help her small blush at his words. The girl began to lick her pink Popsicle, which was already starting to melt all over her fingers. She sucked at the base of it to clear off some of the juice before licking the sides clean.

Vinnie saw all of this, his jaw dropping as she made delicate laps of her tongue on the pink-colored ice. He nudged Modo, who looked up from his bowl of ice cream and nearly choked at the site of the beautiful girl licking the treat all over. Throttle, disturbed by the noise, glanced over to see what the matter was and almost fell off his seat. All three couldn't help but lock eyes on the sight of Charley's tongue on a pink Popsicle.

She then pulled the very tip into her mouth and started to lightly suck to pull any of the melted juice out so the ice wouldn't start sliding off the stick.

Vinnie made a tiny whimpering noise.

Her lips sealed around it and her eyes closed in pleasure at the taste of one of her favorite flavors.

Throttle swallowed hard.

"Mmm," she moaned softly as she pulled it back out of her mouth to lick the sides again of the juice.

Modo's tail almost tied itself into knots.

She put the tip of it back to her mouth, suddenly noticing all the attention she was getting. "Something on my face?"

"Not yet," Vinnie said, "Ow!"

Throttle and Modo had both kicked him under the table, glaring at him to shut up.

Charley frowned in concern. "Something wrong, Vinnie?"

"N-nothing, babe, just--I'm just gonna head out for a drive, ya know, clear my head a bit, I'll be gone for a while, don't wait up for me, see ya later, doll, 'bye!" He was out the garage door in seconds.

"I wonder what's the matter with him," she said in confusion, turning back to the other mice. One of which was sporting a furious red flush. "Modo? You're not having heatstroke, are you?"

"No, M-Miss Charley, but you know, I'm feelin' a little tired, I think I'll take a quick nap. Thanks for the ice cream, Miss Charley."

"You're more than welcome," she said, surprised at how fast he headed for the guest bedroom. "I hope he's feeling okay."

"He should be fine, just a little worked up from all the heat," Throttle said, proud of how calm he sounded. Mentally, he was becoming a nervous wreak. He didn't know how much longer he could take her licking that Popsicle without--

Throttle's higher brain functions came to a sudden crashing halt.

Charley had taken almost the entire Popsicle into her mouth, lips sealed tight around it to suck up all the melted juice. She sucked back as she pulled it out with a slight 'pop' of sound, and proceeded to lick the part she hadn't reached clean.

"You know, a cold shower sounds really good right now, should have thought of that sooner to cool off, I'll clean up the dishes later, see ya'!"

The girl could only stare as the tan mouse bolted up the stairs. "What in the world has gotten into them?"


	6. The First Sugar Buzz

God help us all, Vinnie discovers sugar...Disclaimer: I do not own Biker Mice or Mars Bars of any kind. (sighs)

Sorry it took so long to fix, ffnet is a byotch when it comes to spacing...

The First Sugar Buzz

Vinnie looked at Charley with mild suspicion. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No," she said in exasperation. "Peel off the plastic and bite into it. Its good."

"Looks a lot like a ration bar," he said, turning the brightly colored parcel in his hands.

"Its not, I promise," she said. She took it from his hands and peeled off the wrapper, revealing a light brown colored bar. She broke it in half and handed him a piece, biting into her own. "Just try it, okay?"

The white mouse sniffed it over, noting the sweet unfamiliar smell. "Alright, just a little." He bit into the candy, his jaw locking as the sweetness exploded over his tongue. His pink eyes widened in surprise and wonder as the chocolate melted. He gave a tiny whimper as he swallowed. His mouth almost refused to work as he spoke, "Wha-what is...how is it...what is this stuff, Charley?"

"Chocolate," she said with a smile. "Earth candy."

"Earth is a beautiful place," he said dreamily as he took another bite of the bar.

A loud call from outside caught her attention. "Looks like Mitch is here for his truck. You stay back here, I won't be too long". The girl walked outside to greet her customer.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, a very odd sounding Charley called over the CB to Throttle and Modo. "Hey guys, you both alright out there?"

"Sure, Charley-ma'am, just patroling the city," Modo said cheerfully.

"Why do you ask?" Throttle said.

"Um"-her voice muffled a bit-"you guys had better get back here. Quick."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing..._too_ terribly bad, but, oh god, this is gonna be blackmail for years to come."

"Blackmail?" Modo said in alarm.

"We're on our way," Throttle said, immediately heading back to the garage.

"Wait, Throttle, its not that serious - Vincent Van Wham, get off the ceiling!"

Both mice exchanged looks, before pushing their bikes to their limits to get to the garage. But nothing could have prepared them for what they found at the garage.

Charley had dragged the garden hose into the garage bay and was holding it out like it was a deadly weapon, her sights firmly set on Vinnie. The white mouse was dripping wet, a wild glazed look on his face as he clung to the ceiling beams of the garage. He glanced over at his friends, "Guysitsgreat, yougottatrythis, itsEarthcandycalled'chocolate', anditcomesinhardcandy, andsugarsticks, and, andtheyevengotkindscalled'warheads'"-he howled in shock as Charley sprayed him firmly with the hose, sputtering and coughing as the cold water soaked him again. "Hey! Whatwasthatfor!"

She just looked over at the two other mice, who looked beyond stunned. "I take it this isn't normal behaviour for him?"

"We'd have killed him in his sleep if it was," Throttle said, unable to take his eyes off the sight of his bro.

"What happened to him?" Modo asked in stunned shock.

"All I can figure is that he got into my candy stash," she said.

"Lottalottalottachocolate!" The white mouse jabbered happily.

"'Candy' can do all this?" Throttle asked incredulously.

"Only if you eat seventeen Mars Bars at once," she said angrily, turning to the hose onto pressure Mach 6. "Those are hard to find around here, you jerk!"

"Mars Bars?" Modo asked.

She shrugged. "They're my favorite chocolate bar, you know, sweet candy. Its just coincidence the word 'Mars' is in it."

"Noitain'tnoitain'tnoitain't!"

"I say we leave him up there until all that sugar wears off," Modo said firmly.

"I second that," Throttle said, shaking his head at his bro's antics.

Charley smirked. "Worse comes to worst, I'll get to teach you boys about pinatas."


	7. The First Laundry Day

What happened when the mice first had laundry duty...

Disclaimer: I do not own those sweet furballs, damn that lucky Charley...

The First: Laundry Day

Three unsuspecting mice were lounging in various places around the scoreboard. No villains, no kidnappings, explosions, car-jackings, virtual quests, or medieval quests for that matter. Just a lazy day of sunshine, and ball games on the tv, and--

_**"YOU THREE CHAUVANISTIC FURBALLS!!" **_

Three terrified mice now were crouched behind the couch in a defensive position facing the door, which had been slammed open with enough power to force the doorknob into the wall. Charlene Davidson stood in the doorway, her alburn hair flying around her head like a pack of live snakes, fists clenched and shaking in anger.

After a minute of marveling at her resemblance to Kysha, the Martian Goddess of War, Vinnie was the first to brave the human's fury. "S-sweetheart, what brings you here?"

_**"DON'T YOU 'SWEETHEART' ME, YOU OVERGROWN DUNDERHEAD!! **__You three are in big trouble!!" _

"Ch-Charley-ma'am, what'd we do?" Modo asked in a shaking voice, also noting the resemblance to the war god.

She took a few breaths to try and calm down. When she spoke, her voice was icy. "Why is there a huge pile of jeans, underwear, and socks in my basement?"

"Isn't that where the washing machine you told us about is?" Vinnie asked innocently, flinching back as she glared at him.

"Yes it is, Vincent. What's your point?" she asked in a dangerous voice.

"Well, we, ah--that is, we thought that, um--ah"--the white mouse might be oblivious to danger 99 percent of the time, but this 1 percent was starting to scare him. He sent frantic looks at his bros to save him from the very ticked off human.

It suddenly came to Throttle why she was so angry, and he winced at what he was about to do. (And at the human female's startling resemblance to Carbine.) "Ah, Charley-girl, we were just waiting to ask you what kind of detergent to use," the tan mouse answered. "Yeah, that's it, detergent," he muttered to himself.

"So you three macho-mice were not going to leave it there, assuming that just because I am a female, that I would do it?" she asked, still suspicious.

"Not at all," Throttle lied through his teeth, preserving the furry hides of his two bros.

"Oh," Charley said, reverting back to her normal self and blushing slightly. "Oh. I'm sorry. I can't believe I thought so badly of you three. I'm just so used to guys being thoughtless like that. Just use the same stuff on the top shelf and follow the instructions and you should be fine." She made to pull the door closed and sheepishly smiled at the trio when she couldn't pry it out of the wall. "Sorry about that. I'll get you a new door. See you boys later!" The human whistled a cheerful tune as she went back down the stairs.

Modo and Vinnie looked over at Throttle. "I guess you're going over to Charley's, huh?"

Throttle glanced at his two bros with a cocked eyebrow. "Me? Who declared me laundry-doer?"

"You're the one talking about detergent," Vinnie pointed out.

"And you're the one that left all our clothes there!" Throttle snapped.

"Bros, think of this as an opportunity," Modo said.

The tan and white mice gave the grey mouse incredulous looks. "How is this an opportunity?"

"We can say we'll do some of her laundry too, and we can get rid of 'the shirt'," he said matter-of-factly.

"We're in!" The other two chorused.

"Anything to get rid of 'the shirt'," Vincent muttered darkly.

'The shirt', as it came to be known, was declared an evil, vile thing that needed to be burned at the first opportunity. Or ejected into deep space. Or sank with anvils into the ocean. Anything, so long as no one else from another planet saw it. If they did, Earth would be overrun by the worst sort of aliens in a matter of weeks.

Despite how 'cute' Charley thought she looked in it, none of her bros could possibly let her walk around in a pink shirt with blue letters that proudly declared 'EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY.' They rode over to the Last Chance Garage, determination in their eyes.

Three washing machines, one dryer, and a pink shirt later, Charley forbid them from ever doing the laundry again.

&

Note: the line from the shirt was originally from a funny 1980's movie title, a film about three aliens that land in a girl's pool. Not to mention, I own that shirt.


	8. The First Pet

The First Pet

When she came into the living room and ordered them out for the night right as they were in the middle of watching the game, naturally, they asked her why. (Rather, Vinnie did. Loudly.) The mechanic explained that she had to feed Max, and so they had to leave.

This caused no small amount of confusion. "Max?" Throttle asked with a slight frown. "Who's Max?"

"And why haven't we seen him before?" Vinnie asked.

"Max is my pet, had him for years. He's a little unusual," Charley said. "I didn't want to freak you guys out with him, and I know one of you three would try to shoot him, so I kept quiet about him."

"Um, Charley-ma'am, we've been around the galaxy a few times," Modo said. "I'm willing to bet we could handle your little pet."

She cocked an eyebrow at his patronizing tone. "You haven't even met Max, and you think he's little? Why is that?"

"Aw, come on, babe, if you can handle him, he can't be that big," Vinnie said laughingly.

"Oh really?" she said with a dangerous little smile. "If you think you can take it, then fine. You all can meet Maxie." She walked down the basement stairs and a few minutes later called up a warning. "Mind your tails! Max is on the move!"

The Mice weren't worried at all. They expected something along the lines of furry and four-legged.

Boy, were they wrong.

A slithering sound was all the warning they got before the head of a white serpent appeared at the top of the basement steps. Gold eyes and a thick forked tongue darted around the room before more of the snake appeared. None of the Mice dared take their eyes away from him once they got a good look at him. Max was easily nine feet long, with a thick, powerful body speckled with white and gold scales.

Charley sauntered up the stairs a few seconds after the snake had cleared the door and slithered into the kitchen. "So, what do you think of Maxie?"

"Is that a snake?" Modo asked, his eye huge in surprise.

"Yep. An eleven year old Burmese python," she bragged. "One of the largest ever raised in captivity. The guys at the City Zoo have been after me for years to buy him, but I really do like the little guy."

"Little guy?!" Vinnie said incredulously. "You call this little?!"

"Considering that some breeds of pythons can get up to twenty feet long, yes I do," she said calmly. "And guys, tails up."

"Huh?"

"Tails up," she repeated. "Pythons hunt by curling around and squeezing their prey to death, but they have to catch it first. They can move up to fifteen miles per hour chasing their food. And believe me, those jaws might not have teeth, but they do bite hard. I'd hate for there to be a case of mistaken identity. After all, he is hungry."

"And just what does a Burmese python eat?" Throttle asked, his tail now firmly wrapped around his waist. His hand was resting over his laser pistol, fingers twitching. Modo was so tense you could see all the muscles in his body move, his arm cannon already out and waiting. Vinnie was crouched over the edge of the table, laser in hand and ready to call his bike if needed. His tail barely edged out over the end of the table.

She smiled almost angelically. "Relax, you guys. Snakes eat rats."

All three instantly relaxed. "Well if he eats rats, he can't be that bad," Modo said. He coiled his tail around his waist and slowly reached out to stroke part of the white scales. The snake accepted the touch before sliding over to the kitchen cupboards. He nudged the door open and slipped inside.

Charlene smiled. "Max is the best pest control you could get. Just let him out once a week to stretch and get some exercise and he either scares them off or he gets a buffet. Either way, he's happy."

"How do you get him back in his cage?" Throttle asked curiously. "He looks big enough to maybe hurt you, Charley-girl."

"He could if he wanted to," the girl admitted. "I normally call the Zoo guys to help. They check him over, be sure he's

healthy, and they normally bring an intern or two to teach them about reptiles."

"That's why you wanted us gone," the tan mouse nodded in understanding. "You're about to have company."

"Nothing against you guys," she agreed with a smile.

"We better get"--

"YEOOOWWW!! LET GO, YOU STUPID LEGLESS WONDER!!"

The girl and the other two mice whirled around to face a howling Vinnie, who was in the middle of a nasty looking tug of war with Max over possession of his tail. The snake had apparently surprised the mouse by darting out of the cupboard doors and latching onto his tail. They sprang into action, Throttle helping his bro pull his abused tail and Modo going over with Charley to work with Max. The girl got the snake's mouth open in a few minutes and the poor mouse tucked his tail over his shoulder to work out the bite marks. The Mice decided to leave after that and let Charley deal with her pet.

On the way out, Charlene offered this bit of consolation. "It could have been worse, Vinnie."

"How?" he said sulkily.

"Max is white. Your tail is white. He could have thought it was a girl python," she said with a grin.

Vinnie burned a long black scorch trail of burned rubber out the garage doors, his bros laughing the entire time.


	9. The First Song

Disclaimer: I no own the mice, or the killer song 'Horse With No Name' by America.

I know its not a funny chapter, but this image stuck in my head and would not let go. Throttle strikes me as the kind of person that keeps everything hidden, used to everything being turned against him in battle. So he would hide things, even from his bros, an unconscious move to protect himself. Just what I think, anyway.

The First Song

It had been a long, tiring day for everyone. The boys were telling her about their latest adventure with Limburger's goon squad. She hoped she was being a good audience, because she was getting so tired right then. It had been a hot, endless day for her, fighting with two engine blocks and three very irate customers. Charley stretched her arms above her head as she pushed back from the dinner table. "Glad to hear you three are okay after a day like that," she said with a smile. She began to pick up the dishes from the table, but a tan hand stopped her.

"You've been working hard too, Charley-girl," Throttle said. "I'll help."

Her smile became a grin. "I knew one of you was a gentleman, but I had Modo pegged for it."

He rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation, "Everyone says that."

Together they cleared the table, putting the leftovers in the fridge and the dishes in the sink as Modo and Vinnie went out to the living room to catch the latest game. She filled the sink with soapy water, fully expecting him to go off with his bros, but the tan mouse surprised her. He picked up a dish towel and began to dry as she handed him each dish. The radio played softly as they worked, and she found herself singing along to one of her favorite tunes.

"On the first part of the journey  
I was looking at all the life  
There were plants and birds and rocks and things  
There was sand and hills and rings  
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz  
And the sky with no clouds  
The heat was hot and the ground was dry  
But the air was full of sound"

As she started in on the chorus, she was almost stunned speechless as she heard a whisper-soft voice sing along with her, rich and low and clear.

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name  
It felt good to be out of the rain  
In the desert you can remember your name  
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la"

She didn't dare sing louder, didn't dare let him know she could hear him. She somehow knew that if he thought she could hear him, he would stop, that beautiful soft voice would stop.

"After two days in the desert sun  
My skin began to turn red  
After three days in the desert fun  
I was looking at a river bed  
And the story it told of a river that flowed  
Made me sad to think it was dead

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name  
It felt good to be out of the rain  
In the desert you can remember your name  
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la"

He was humming. She had never heard him hum before. God, his voice had held such sorrow as he sang. Was he thinking of Mars?

"After nine days I let the horse run free  
'Cause the desert had turned to sea  
There were plants and birds and rocks and things  
there was sand and hills and rings  
The ocean is a desert with it's life underground  
And a perfect disguise above  
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground  
But the humans will give no love

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name  
It felt good to be out of the rain  
In the desert you can remember your name  
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la"

She didn't want the song to end. The human almost trembled as the music began to fade away.

"La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la  
La, la, la la la la la, la la la, la, la..."

Silence for a single second before another song took its place. But there was almost endless silence between the human and the mouse. He handed her the towel as she quietly said her thanks before he walked out of the room. Charlene didn't know why, but she felt like crying. It would never happen again, she knew.

She would never hear his real voice again.


	10. The First Massage

The bros walk in on Charley giving Carbine a massage and find out how the general really feels about Throttle...Crack. Pure crack.

Disclaimer: Self explanatory.

I can occasionally be persuaded to do a Throttle/Carbine. This fic is a direct result of what happens when I have too much caffeine.

Beware the caffeine...

The First Massage

Throttle pulled up with the rest of his bros, smiling as they entered the garage. It was the first time Carbine had come to visit him here on Earth without a mission, and he was looking forward to spending time with his girl. Stoker and Rimfire had come with the general to visit with them, causing a major store run to get snacks and drinks for the party they were about to have.

Of course, it had taken some time to gloss over the fact that the Stalker ship was sticking out of the Quigly Scoreboard.

Again.

The mice dismounted from their bikes, pulling off their helmets and joking around like normal with they suddenly heard Carbine's voice. More like a very loud moaning voice.

"Oh god, I'm going to marry you!"

"Huh?" Vinnie said in complete confusion as they all turned to stare up the steps to Charley's apartment above the garage bay.

"I love you!! Oh god, I love you...".

"Happens all the time, people get a massage and they start pledging their undying love," Charley said, her voice carrying to where they stood.

"A massage gets results like that?" Modo asked the room at large, staring up at the ceiling in shock.

"Sign me up for the next class," Vinnie said in awe.

"Me too," Rimfire agreed, Stoker nodding.

The lady mouse's voice rang with pleasure as she called out in a somewhat sleepy voice, "Gonna marry you an' never move again..."

"I think you may have to fight off a few people for that. Vinnie keeps on saying he'll make me a proud mama someday," Charley said.

"He can't love you like I can!! I'm twice the man he'll ever be!"

Stoker couldn't help it and started to laugh. Modo and Rimfire moved in perfect unison, slapping their hands over Vinnie's protesting mouth so he wouldn't interrupt the two girls.

"I'll cook! I'll clean!! I'll vacuum in a pink frilly apron!!" She went on, in great detail. It took a full two minutes for the general's voice to recover from shouting herself hoarse over begging to be allowed the joy and privilege of being Charlene's love slave and other, less appropriate, comments that were naughty even in context.

Stoker was now holding both hands over his mouth, tears pouring down his face as he curled up into a ball on the floor, helpless with laughter at the mental image of the apron. Modo and Rimfire just stared up the stairs in complete shock while Vinnie looked like he was about to drown in his own drool at the mental image of the two girls doing..._things_. Throttle just shook his head, fighting the twitch of his lips as he desperately tried to not laugh.

"For heaven's sake, Carbine, you have Throttle!" Charley exclaimed.

"He won't care if I have a mistress!! It'd probably turn him on!"

Vinnie passed out from a nosebleed at the image. Modo wasn't far behind him, but from sheer embarrassment.

"I will not be a mistress! I--oh lord, I almost took you seriously," Charley said in mild embarrassment.

"Alright, now its gettin' out of hand," Throttle said, a red flush on his cheeks. He made to go up the steps when he was

stopped dead in his tracks by Carbine's next words.

"I'll make it a law!! Throttle _has _to have two wives! He can be a polygamist and have **_ten_ **wives for all I care!! Just as long as I have you!!"

"Okaaaay," Charley drawled, "I'm going to give you a cool down rub, so you just be still, alright? Be still."

Carbine passed out in the midst of promising, for the fourth time, to love her forever if only Charlene would graciously allow her to be her loyal pet in exchange for just two more minutes of massage.

She'd even been volunteering to wear a collar and everything.

Charley came down the steps a few minutes later, took one look at the boys, and shook her head. She turned to Throttle. "Carbine's sleeping now. She should be out for a couple of hours."

"Alright," the tan mouse nodded. "I appreciate you...making her comfortable." He had no idea how else to phrase it.

She noted his light blush and smiled. "Want me to teach you how to do that?"

His blush deepened. "If you have the time, I'd be grateful."

Charley smiled wider. "I'm free now. Go upstairs, take off your clothes and get on the bed."

"What?!"

"Before I can show you any techniques, I have to practice them on you so you can get a better understanding of what I'll be teaching." Her grin was positively wicked. "Now march, mister Martian. And don't worry, I'll have you moaning in no time."

"Oh, god."

"Just like that," she said serenely. She took his arm, gently pulling him along. "Come on, Throttle, we don't have all day!"

Stoker couldn't help his next words, for all that he loved the tan mouse like a son. "Lucky bastard."


	11. The First Touch

What it was like when Throttle gave his thoughts to Charlene, the first touch

Disclaimer: No own Mice, woe is me...

Okay, I know this is a bit disorganized. But the thoughts of people are rarely organized. Especially in the case of two alien species. I mean, Throttle is a _**psychic alien!**_ Why does almost no one touch on this? I know the series doesn't make a big deal out of it, but man they should have. He pushed into the mind of another person, giving memories and thoughts, and you never, ever hear about how that might have affected Charley. Well, this was my idea of what really happened.

The First Touch

He had moved so fast, his tail instantly wrapping around her waist to pull her forward, his antennae glowing as they pressed against her forehead. A light touch, warm, was tingling across her scalp, sending goose-bumps all over her body. But all that was recalled later, much later.

He had slipped into her mind so fast, so quickly, she couldn't even blink. It felt like there was no time in her mind, no way of telling how long he'd been there, (had he always been there?), how had he gotten there?

It was a raw presence, a being, a pressure inside her head. He felt hard, like he was covered in armor, firmly pushing in to open her thoughts to his, sinking deep inside her mind. But there was no pain, no forceful shove, no invasion. No dark intention, no desire to cause pain, not even to read, or see, or hear, or touch what he felt in her mind. Just there, slipping in even more.

He felt hard like marble, and cool to the touch. Calm, too much calm to be natural, a steadiness that she could measure with a hidden thought, like the ticking of a clock or the beat of a heart. He'd had training, formal training, she realized. He was trained to be in the mind of another. He was taught to be calm, be still, to push back all he was to soothe those he was with. But she could still sense it. He was trained to hide it, subsume it, ignore it. Buried deep in his armor, maybe even he couldn't see it anymore, but she could sense it.

A burning, boiling thing, coiling around his heart. Frustration (with others, himself), anger (at his enemies, at his situation, at himself), pain (for his friends, his memories), and so, so much greif (for his friends, his home, his own innocence.) It was not meant for her.

It was not meant for her to touch, to soothe, no matter how she felt it, no matter how she wished to heal it.

Not yet. It would take time, a long time, to earn the privilege of touching that burning ember.

She had been afraid, shaking, her body trembling in his grip. And yet her stance was still solid, her will unbroken, the fire still shining in her eyes. She had been quite willing to take him on, bare-handed if she had to. She was a survivor and a fighter. He had no doubts that she'd be stubborn and refuse to believe him.

So he had used a strong presence, keeping his edges sharp and defined to push through any resistance. Surely a fiery spirit like her would never stand for his touching her mind; she would fight him every inch of the way. He would have to dig, push hard, punch through barriers.

He had never been so wrong before.

She had no barriers, no guards, no blocks. He slipped in like a hot knife through butter, easily flowing into her mind-space. She was like water, a liquid being that was constantly flowing around him. She acknowledged him, wondered about him, was filled with curiosity to know all about him. She had no distrust, no fear, as if she was not even worried he would harm her.

She welcomed him in, accepted his presence with ripples around him, touching with waves of knowing and thought. She flowed at his touch, brushing against him, learning his armor and touch, his presence and scent, learning the sound of his 'voice'.

He instantly stilled in shock at such a mindscape, scrambling to rebuild the structure of thoughts in his mind. He sent out calm, reassurance; and yet the ripples spreading around him seemed to know him more than they should. He had never encountered a mind like hers before, so accepting of all that he was; he found himself trying to resonate with her. But how could he? Nothing was solid to hold on to, everything was moving and still all at once. Her mind was a beautiful chaos that nothing could ever describe. Color and sound in utter darkness and silence; soft and hard together in a way that should have been impossible, yet explained everything about her. Was this her presence?

And then he knew why there was stillness. She was waiting for him to move.

_He_ was cutting himself off from _her_. He was stopping her somehow. He was blocking her. The armor had to go.

He lowered his guards, partially dissolved his blocks. He could not remove his shields, he was far too private, but that hardly mattered. She flowed around them anyway. She sank into every chink and crack, no force, no invasion, just accepting of everything. No judgment, no condemnation for his touch-no. No, this was not a touch, this was assault. How could she let him in like this? She knew nothing of mind-walking, had only heard about it in stories and movies. She should be frightened, or angry. Yet she didn't curse or scream, yell or try to attack. And he would deserve it, for if any other Martian mind-walker knew what he was doing, they would shame him until the day he died.

No one was allowed to walk in the mind of the defenseless. The ramifications of such a thing were beyond horrible. Alteration of memory and/or personality, mind control-all of it was possible for those without a mental defense.

And she was completely defenseless. What he was doing now would be called rape of the worst sort, an intimacy far greater than sex could ever be, and oh gods, he was tearing into her like some kind of—

He stilled completely now, unable to move no matter what he might wish. She had sensed him, the emotions that had sank within him like green bricks of poison, and now the fluid being was sending a cool touch to his presence. It felt like—like—

Like she was forgiving him.

He loosened his control, the blocks completely gone now. His shields were almost non-existent, to let her have as much access to him as he had to her, at least, as much as he could. Tentatively he extended himself outside of his presence, truly feeling the water-like mind and consciousness around him. And she flowed around him, wrapped questions around his answers, feelings around his thoughts. She was _learning_, he realized, learning how to talk to him, to feel and understand him, taking what he offered and realizing what he took.

He reached out, touched. She accepted, reached out for him.

Throttle began to 'speak' in her mind; whispers of secrets and prayers in the dark, scents of forgotten perfume from his lover and the burning blood of his friends dying around him, memories flashing through both minds. The sounds of laser-fire, screams, pain and death, love lost and divided, loyalties betrayed. The taste of tears of frustration, grief, defeat, and triumph. The touch of Carbine's hands, the medics bandages, the mad Dr. Karbunkle's scalpels and blades and torture. The sight of so, so much death….

She accepted it all, translating it so she could fully understand.

_'A while back, Mars was invaded by the Plutarkians…..'_


	12. The First Nightmare

For Jovianokamigirl

For Jovianokamigirl. I mostly write about Throttle and Charley because I think I relate to them the best. I can understand Modo alright, but Vinnie? I just don't know enough about the mouse to really write well about him, and he really does deserve something good. So here's my attempt at an introspective piece on Vincent Van Wham

Disclaimer: He's not mine, she's not mine…damn it.

The First Nightmare

He hated falling asleep after a battle. It never failed that whenever the adrenaline faded away, when he crashed after the high of victory, he would dream.

It always started the same.

His bros around him, laughing and joking like normal, the red sands of Mars blowing behind them as they raced across the desert. She was sitting behind him, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. Her blues eyes danced in mischief when she looked at him, her smile so sweet and bright. She would nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck in complete trust as they sped across the rocks and sand.

He would lean into her touch, reveling in her embrace. She had chosen him, of all the Martians she could have had, she had chosen him. He knew how lucky he was to have her, too. A smart, beautiful, loving woman was hard to find, but she had come to him. She had willing come and walked by his side, taken his hand and showed to the world that she was with him. He could never remember being so happy. "God, I love you, babe."

And then the bombs came.

Screaming down from the Plutarkian warships, huge explosions tearing apart the desert.

They filled the sky with laser fire and battle cruisers, the stench reeking even from this far away. Suddenly his bros were in battle gear, their lasers firing as they fought to defend their home. He was shooting for all he was worth, trying to protect the girl that clung for dear life behind him.

Clawed hands suddenly yanked, dirty brow fur staining the uniform she wore as she was taken from him. Her terrified cry was the last thing he heard as Mace laughed. "You pitiful mouse, you thought you could protect her from me?!" the rat howled.

He screamed her name as the battle grew louder, drowning out his cries. It pulled him further and further away, stealing his only chance to come back for her—

"Vinnie!! Bro, wake up, you're dreamin'!"

"Come on, mouse, snap out of it!!"

The white mouse jerked away from his bros, snapping upright as he tried to clear the dream from his mind. He panted for breath as Throttle and Modo stepped back. It took a bit to get his composure back, and a blush spread across his face in embarrassment. Crying out like a little kid in the dark, how macho was that? "Sorry, bros."

"Don't worry about it, man," Throttle shrugged as he turned back to his bed.

"Yeah, just get some sleep, bro," Modo said softly as he walked to his spot. He glanced back at his white furred friend, wanting to say something, but thought better of it. Vincent would have to deal with it on his own.

The white mouse got up from his hammock, climbing the ladder to the high catwalk that spanned the scoreboard. He walked out into the late night, staring up at the stars as he found a place to sit and think. And he had much to think about.

Because this was the first time that the dream was different.

Not in loosing her, he always lost her. He could never hold onto her, was never fast enough, clever enough, strong enough to keep her. Not in her painful cry as Mace stole her away from him. No, nothing was different about the dream.

_**She**_ was different.

Instead of russet fur the color of the sand, there was pale peach skin. Instead of a medic's coat and uniform, there was a blue work shirt and black jeans. Instead of a fiery mane, there had been soft auburn hair. Instead of baby blue eyes, there had been jewels the color of the ocean, a perfect aqua.

Instead of calling the name of his first love—

He had called out for Charley.

Vincent was not stupid. Dense, but not stupid. And even he couldn't ignore what the dream was telling him. He was falling in love with Charley, a human girl. He knew he was in trouble with her. He was no match for her, couldn't impress her. Hell, she could match or surpass him in any field she chose. How could he not love a girl like that?

How could he fall in love again, was his real question.

Love had never gone well for him. He knew that. How in the universe he had ever caught Harley, he would never know or understand. How in the world he could keep Charley, he had no idea.

How he could stand loosing her; now that he knew right off the bat. He would die if he lost another girl. When he loved, he loved whole-heartedly. The flirting had been his lame attempt to keep himself from falling in love with the human, and look how wonderfully that had worked out.

Those words, those three damn words, they were cursed. They had to be. He told Harley those words, and she had been stolen from him almost instantly. What if that happened with Charley? Was he cursed to never love?

He snorted at himself. _'Cursed to never love?' Since when am I so melodramatic? (sigh) Since I met her_, he thought. He knew he had to figure this out. Or there was a really high chance that he would never be able to sleep again.

He sat out under the stars until the light of false dawn came over the sky. He had reached a decision about Charley.

He just prayed he would have the strength to carry it out.

&

I let the reader draw their own conclusions about what he decided.


	13. The First Jealousy

Sorry, but real life has been a pain.

Oh, and hey, check out 'Reunion' by Starreacher and 'Don't Worry' by Noroi. Both are very cool stories, if a little mature. Oh! And don't forget to read every single story by Eternalfan. Trust me, you'll thank me.

This is just a little idea I had right after I found a pic of McCyber at deviantart. I could only imagine Vinnie's reaction to seeing him and wondering what Charley saw in him.

Disclaimer; No own the mice, McCyber, or Charley. Or there would have been massive changes on that show…..

The First Jealousy

_Who the hell did he think he was?!_

He just showed up at the garage, rolled in like he owned the place. Even her rudest customers have better manners than that. And look at the poor bike, covered in road dust and grime. Obviously just some biker bum.

Why was she smiling at him like that? She never looked at them like that.

A simmering anger began to form under his skin as he watched the red haired stranger greet Charley with an embrace. Like he had the right to touch her at all! The man's hands were way too far down her back, his eyes staring down at her at the wrong angle to be looking at her face.

He knew he was glaring at the human, knew his bros could see it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. That human male was going to be trouble, he knew it! Couldn't she see that?

Why was she hugging him back?

An old friend? Why haven't we heard from you before? Why weren't you here for her when Greasepit was trying to force her out of the garage? Why haven't you been here to protect her and her city if you're such an old friend? Probably only here because he wants something. Well, buddy old pal, you ain't getting' anywhere near enough to her for that.

_**Married?!**_ You actually thought about **marrying** this guy?! But look at him!! He doesn't even take good care of his bike! He's scruffy and covered in dirt. He's not even good looking! You deserve better than that! Thank the gods you came to your senses.

Some kind of helmet? That what he came here to show you? Sure its not that padded helmet he needs to keep wearing?

What the hell do you mean _he's staying here_?!

_**Over my dead body!**_

And what kind of name is McCyber anyway?


	14. The First Accident

Hey guys! Thanks for all your patience. Oh, and plugging this time is for Sewer Slider's story, Vagabonds, you guys will love it. Oh, and go read everything Noroi has ever written, along with Eternalfan's stuff!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars.

The First Accident

It was late, going on into the midnight hours at the Last Chance garage. Charley sat up from her work on a '94 Victory bike, stretching to pull the kinks out of her back. _The things you do to get by_, she thought to herself. Of course, this sort of thing was nothing compared to what her boys had been doing lately. Limburger had been unusually active lately with bank heists, factory take-overs; just about anything he could think of to drain the mice's reserves. He'd finally run out of steam a week ago, (probably couldnt' afford hiring all the super-villains for that long), and the last week had been eerily quiet.

All three biker mice had been out late on patrol to be sure they didn't miss any action. But tonight, Throttle hadn't come back to the scoreboard. His bike didn't put out a distress signal and its homing beacon still worked; he was apparently just out cruising. Vinnie had called earlier with the update, asking her to keep an eye out for their bro when he decided to come in. She'd laughed and promised to let them know if he came over. The white mouse might not want to admit it, but he did have some mother-hen tendencies, (that he viciously denied existed).

The sound of a familiar engine roaring outside made the mechanic smile as she slid off her roll board. Throttle was coming in, so she hurried to pull open the garage doors. They rose with a clatter of old metal and he drove the black and chrome beauty in to rest. She pulled the doors back down and turned to welcome him in when the sight of him made her pause.

He had turned off the cycle and was just sitting there, his body locked in tension. She saw scrapes and tears on the side of his leather vest and black pants, matching the dents and scrapes on his bike. Dirt and bits of gravel clung in the bloody scratches on his left arm and shoulder. A spider web of cracks marred the side of his helmet, and the small patch of rust colored fur near his left eye made her wince. What had happened to him?!

"Throttle?" she called softly. It seemed like he didn't even hear her as he pulled the helmet off, exposing a gash above his eyebrow. It looked like his glasses had been forced back somehow and cut into his face. His hands shook with fine, barely noticeable tremors as they held his broken helmet. That slight shaking spread to the rest of his body, his tail beginning to twitch like mad. He pulled off his shades, his red eyes far too wide open. Charley realized that he was in some form of shock, and might not even know where he was.

"Throttle?" She moved over to his uninjured side, going slow to not startle him, and gently took hold of his arm. "Throttle? C'mon, babe, c'mon over here with me, okay?" With some coaxing, she got him off his bike and into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. She hurried to get the first aid kit and went to work cleaning the injuries she could see.

He still hadn't said one word to her. That worried her more than anything. From what she could tell, none of his wounds were serious enough to cause the kind of shock he was experiencing. Something very bad must have happened, but wouldn't he have called for his bros to help him?

Charley kept her touch light as she worked at cleaning to blood and dirt away from the cuts and scrapes. She wanted to ask what was going on, but it felt too awkward to talk somehow. She kept her silence, figuring that he would talk when he was ready.

Throttle felt like he was in a daze, his thoughts spinning in his head too fast for him to catch. He was dimly aware of coming to a stop on his bike, of the smells of the garage and of Charley-girl's slight perfume. The kind touches of her hands, her voice trying to soothe him. Oh gods, he couldn't' look at her, not after that, what he'd done. A pressure was building up in his throat, ready to choke him into confession, but the words wouldn't come. He tried to start, swallowing to push down that pressure, but the words still wouldn't come.

Charley sat next to her friend, hoping her presence helped him a little. She saw his struggle and cupped his soft-furred cheek in her palm, turning his head to face her. Her voice sounded so soft in that odd silence as she spoke. "Whenever you're ready, big guy."

The Martian closed his eyes against such a gentle touch. He didn't deserve it. His deep voice shook as he began to talk. "I was in a wreck today." he swallowed again. "I almost killed a kid."

She couldn't help her soft gasp.

He flinched at the sound. "I--I was uptown in the suburbs. The sun had just gone down and I had pulled into this little street to turn back around. Took the scenic route," he said in self-depreciation, "I just wanted to look around for a while. And I didn't see the sign they had on the street post. Deaf child area. I saw it on the way out. I didn't see it going in"--his breath hitched a moment--"and I just drove through full speed.

"And this little girl came out from behind the fence and ran into the road, chasing some ball, I think. She couldn't have been more than four years old. She was so tiny and small, and I couldn't slow down, Charley, I was too close and couldn't slow down."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. "I turned my bike as hard as I could, locked her brakes and cut hard left. Went down to the ground, slid halfway down the street, there was this sharp screeching sound. We finally slowed down and stopped, and I was scared to look back, see if I hurt her. Gods, I couldn't take it if I hurt her. And she was just standing there, looked so terrified that she couldn't even scream. She started to cry"--he tried to push down the lump in his throat. It felt like he couldn't breathe when he talked.

"I heard a scream and this lady came running out from the house and picked her up. Her mom, I think. She was yelling something, but I couldn't really hear her, there was this ringing in my ears. I couldn't hear her, but I could tell what she was saying. I'd have said even worse if"--he gasped for breath against that awful pressure building up in his throat again--"if someone almost killed my little girl"--

He couldn't speak another word as his head fell forward into his hands. The mouse's body began to shudder as he fought to draw in air to breathe. Charley reached out and pulled him over to lean on her, she couldn't stand seeing him in such pain. Strong arms wrapped around her in a trembling grip as Throttle began to silently cry. The girl returned the embrace, pulling them both back until she leaned back against the couch's arm and braced him with her body. She began to comb her fingers through his mane, stroking the backs of his ears, anything she could think of to soothe him as he wept.

She could hear him berating himself the entire time, a terrible tone of self-loathing in his voice. "Oh gods, I almost killed a kid, almost murdered a child. Charley, _why didn't I see that sign?!_ I should have paid attention, should have seen her coming"--he tried to control his breathing and couldn't--"but no, I didn't even think to look. I didn't think that some little girl wouldn't hear me coming, I didn't even think to slow down by houses that obviously had kids, oh gods, Charley!" He buried his face into her shoulder, his tears seeping into her shirt.

"If--If I hadn't gone to ground, I'd have killed her, Charley, that tiny little girl. How could I be so stupid?! Some rider I am, huh?"

She knew he couldn't keep thinking like that. "Throttle, the fact that you're a good rider is all that saved that girl"--

"A good rider would have slowed down, would have looked out to see if kids were there by a bunch of houses!" he cried. "A good rider would have paid attention and never had to go down in the first place!"

"But you did go down and chose to risk yourself rather than hurt a child!" Her voice nearly gave out on her as she tried to comfort her friend. "You didn't hurt her, Throttle, you didn't hurt her."

"But I could have!" His voice dropped low. "I didn't look to see if anyone was there and I almost killed her."

"And you didn't," Charley soothed, brushing his bangs back. "You made a mistake, and thank god no one else was hurt by it. Throttle, everyone makes mistakes; they don't pay attention and stupid, tragic things are the usual result. I don't know if I could have avoided her if it had been me in that situation. But you did, and everything turned out okay. It'll be okay."

He let his head drop back onto her shoulder and lay quietly for a moment, absorbing her words. His squeezed her waist in a hug, ducking his face further into her shoulder as embarrassment set in. How macho is it to have a nervous break-down? One could hear the flush in his voice as he spoke, "Sorry about this. You must think I'm some kind of wuss for dripping all over you--ow!" He pulled back, wincing from where she'd flicked the rim of his ear. "What was that for?"

"For being a dork," she scolded. "You needed a shoulder to lean on, what a terrible crime." She smiled to take the sting from her words. "There's nothing wrong with coming to a friend when something bad happens. That's what your friends are for, you know. But"—she couldn't help her inner surprise that he hadn't gone to Vinnie or Modo, whom he'd known years longer--"I'm honored you trusted me enough to come to me."

"Stoker claims you're a good listener," the mouse said, finding a smile as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"That's me, the universal shoulder of mice everywhere," she joked. Her tone became suddenly serious as she whispered, "I'll need a shoulder to lean on too. Will you loan me yours when that happens?"

He reached down to catch her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "I promise, babe, whenever you need it, you just ask and I'll be there."

They lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours, just living in this one moment for as long as they could. The world outside could do without them for a little while.


	15. The First of several Annoyances

Hey guys! I figured this one needed a little explaining, so here goes. I had several ideas, but none of them were long enough for a proper one-shot. So I decided to just list them here and see if anyone liked them. Thanks for reading!

The First (of Several) Annoyances

The Martians pulled into the Last Chance Garage, laughing and joking after a routine patrol of the city. Modo immediately settled Lil' Hoss, getting out a few rags to wipe off the road dust from the day. Throttle stretched out, calling a greeting to Charley as he went to the kitchen for some root beer.

Vinnie easily stepped off his beloved red bike, strolling over to where Charley sat working on a stripped down engine. "Hey, babe, you miss the fastest mouse alive?"

"Like a migraine," she said distractedly, a faint smile taking any real sting from her words. "Can you hand me the 4-point wrench there?"

"Sure thing, babe," he said, using his tail to hand her the tool. "I was wondering, can we borrow five or ten bucks?"

"Hmm? For what?"

"I thought me and my bros could go rent a movie tonight, give you some quiet time here while we chill at the Scoreboard. I know you'll miss me and my studly bod, but I suppose you could make do just this once."

"Hey, that sounds good," Modo said. "The movie, I mean."

"Yeah, it does," Throttle said as he came out of the kitchen, tossing his bros a bottle of root beer apiece. "What kind do you have in mind?"

"Educational," Vincent said matter-of-factly.

"Educational?" The other mice chorused in disbelief.

Charley dropped her wrench out of shock before she recovered. "Um, wow. Geez, never thought I'd hear you say something like that, Vin." She reached into her wallet to pull out some money, "You're going to Ticketrider Video Store, right? Know what title you're looking for?"

"Sure do! Cannibal Vixen Stewardesses Unchained!" The white mouse said proudly.

...two hours later….

"Great, just great, Vincent," Throttle muttered. He rubbed his aching ear, still sore from all the yelling the very ticked off Terran female had done. "Now she won't even let us into the video store."

Vincent pouted from his bike, "I still think we'd have learned a lot from that video."

* * *

The three Mice walked through the music store, glancing over titles and checking out the weird and sometimes outright insane music Terrans listened to. Modo had inwardly shuddered when he'd seen the newest Weird Al Yankovic record. How could anybody listen to that and enjoy it? It was the bastard child of polka and crack!

He spotted his tan-furred bro in the Classical Music section, looking very interested in one of the pieces. Surprised by this, he caught Vinnie's attention and both mice walked over to their leader's side. "Hey bro, what you got there?"

"Its called 'The 1812 Overture'," Throttle said, flipping the record over to examine more of the casing.

Modo looked it over, "Hmm. Looks like it might be good. It certainly has an interesting percussion section."

Throttle frowned, "Those are cannons."

All three stared for a moment before Vincent laughed out loud. "And they performed this in crowded concert halls? Cheese, and here I thought Classical Music was boring! Hey Charley-girl, buy this for us!"

* * *

Charley paused at the sound of Vinnie rummaging in her storage shed. She stepped outside, frowning as she thought of all the possible scenarios that came to mind. Before she could call for him, she heard his muffled voice shout out, "Hey Charley-girl, when you going shopping next?"

Her frown got deeper as she called back, "I don't know, why?"

"I think you're all out of gunpowder."

…..thirty minutes later, back at the Quigly Scoreboard….

Vincent pouted from his hammock, glaring at his two bros that were now keeping a close watch on him at Charley's orders. "Aw man, I didn't even get to do it yet!"

* * *

Charley stared at her couch, fists clenching as her temper grew. She had specifically asked them to save her a spot and now look. All three mice were positively sprawled across her couch, with no room for her to sit and watch her favorite show. They even had empty root beer bottles out all over the living room. She was getting ready to start shouting, but an evil idea to make them move, made her grin.

"Hey guys," she said over the noise of the TV, "you ever think about geysers? Its hundreds of thousands of gallons of water shooting out at high pressures. All that water just gushing, swirling, falling, and pouring everywhere. Waterfalls are almost exactly the same except for the starting direction, you know. All that water just pouring out, buckets and buckets of it, a torrential fall of water going all over the place…"

…..five minutes later…..

Throttle and Modo stood outside the door to the bathroom, the grey mouse crossing his legs in urgency. "Vinnie, could you hurry up!"

Throttle shifted a bit, biting his lip in concentration when a thought came. He couldn't help his small laugh as he took a mental note that Charley could fight very, very dirty when she wanted to.

* * *

Charley looked up from her desk as Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie walked in the garage, covered from ears to tail in dirt and grinning like mad. Before she could say a word in greeting, Vinnie sent that heart-stopping smile her way and said, "Hey doll-face, remember your truck?"

"Yeah, sure," she said dazedly, still under the influence of that beautiful look. Reality came back real quick as the words sank in. "Wait, what do you mean, **_'remember'?_**"


	16. The First Headache

This was inspired by the picture drawn by the marvelously talented Copycat on the Altbikermice website. Three bikers in the buff with only their helmets for modesty. (sighs) Oh, its heaven. Go look it up, its hilarious.

Disclaimer: Own no mice, nor the pic, not even originally the idea. But she was wonderfully gracious and let me be inspired.

The First Headache

Charley massaged her temples to try and ease the headache that was building. "Let me get this straight. They just showed up? No bikes, no nothing, just showed up in the middle of downtown?"

"Witnesses say it was in some kind of yellow flash of light," the police officer said as he glanced over the paperwork that he was filing.

"So if they obviously didn't get there by themselves, they weren't there of their own free will, so how is it their fault? Can't you do something about the charges?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure you understand the charges."

"You're right, I don't understand the charges. How in the world is it illegal to refuse to leave a holding cell?"

The officer's lips twitched as he fought not to smile. "Its one thing if they were just accepting police protection. Its quite another when one of them decides to start a riot from the cell's window."

"He was putting his pants on!!"

"And the girls outside protested greatly," the officer said, unable to keep a straight face. Several bouts of chuckling could be heard throughout the police station at the situation Charley found herself in. Somehow, those three furballs had been charged with destruction of property (no surprise there), inciting a riot (that was new), and disturbing the peace (certainly not new).

It was how they had accomplished all three that was bringing on the headache.

In the middle of taking out the Tower, they had apparently been sent by transporter to downtown of the city. Nothing too unusual about that, right? But when they had 'ported in, it had been completely in the buff. Well, nearly so. They somehow still had their helmets, and had been using them for the sake of modesty. That use had been almost completely ruined when the three school buses of girls from several nearby art colleges had spotted them on their way to the city's art museum. And then the all-girl cooking class convention of over two hundred females had seen them.

Once the Hooter's girls bus showed up, it all went downhill from there.

Even Charley, exasperated as she was, couldn't help her small bit of laughter. "Oh god, they'll never live it down if I have anything to say about it. I'm suprised though. No charges of public nudity?"

"The helmets were used judiciously," the officer said laughingly. "Not to mention, the judge that reveiwed their case was female. Declared it a public service."

Charley laughed until tears poured down her face. "Haha! So you want me to try and get them out of the cell, right?"

"Good luck with that," the officer said. "Those boys looked absolutely terrified of their new fangirls."

"Can't imagine why," Charlene said dryly as she went to go talk with her boys. She walked down the hallway and stood in front of the cell door, hands on her hips. "Okay, before we go anywhere, I have to know. Why in heaven's name did you decide to get dressed in front of the window?"

A brilliantly blushing Throttle answered, "I didn't notice."

She cocked an eyebrow incredulously. "You didn't notice you were in front of a window? How exactly did that escape your notice?"

Modo found a chuckle. "He was a little put off by all the attention we've been getting."

"C'mon, it could not be that bad," she said in exasperation.

Modo glanced at his still blushing bro, "And by attention, I mean several flowers being thrown through the bars, notes with everything from phone numbers to addresses to proposals of marriage, house keys with notes on when the husband wouldn't be home, boxes of chocolate, and pictures of girls that would love to get to know us. And then there's this," he handed her a thick sheet of paper through the bars.

"What is it?"

"A petition signed by more than a thousand women asking for us to do it again as a public service." The grey mouse was almost glowing, he was blushing so hard.

"That's not the worst part," Throttle said. "What _really_ scares the hell out of me is that several women pooled their money and tried to post our bail, on the condition that we spend the night. Of course Vinnie was all for it until he saw it was the Elderly Society for the Promotion of Public Art. Then he just sat in a corner and cried."

Charley took one look at the corner with the traumatized Mouse and laughed so hard she had to sit down. "O-Okay then. I'll sneak you three out the back."


	17. The First Time No One Was Looking

Some Vinnie/Charley fluff, for a dear friend that asked.

And sorry this took so long, but I do have a reason. I just had a baby!!! Seven pounds, six ounces, born the 26th of February! My baby Elle!!

Disclaimer: self-explanatory, right?

The First Time No One was Looking

Throttle and Modo didn't notice her stare, how she looked at them with a soft, wistful expression on her face. They didn't see her reach out with an oil-stained finger to brush against the baby-soft texture of just-bloomed petals. They never saw her lean forward to catch the lovely smell that poured off the lush flowers in waves of gentle scent. They didn't look back once as they walked past the old woman's flower stand, or notice Charley look at the beautiful roses with longing before tearing her eyes away to hurry after them.

But Vinnie did.

They didn't notice him sneaking out of the scoreboard later that night. They never saw him come back in with a dozen red roses in his arms before morning, or saw him hiding them away in his locker. They didn't even guess at what happened when they saw his fingers covered in band-aids the next day. They didn't think to wonder about his flimsy excuse to go visit Charley.

Charley never saw him come in the garage's side door. She didn't hear him leave the flowers on her kitchen table. She didn't see the look on his face as he silently debated leaving her a note, then shake his head at his thoughts and leave as silently as he'd come.

The lady mechanic did see the beautiful red roses when she came down the stairs, gasping in happy surprise. She smelled their thick perfume, smiling as it covered the smell of motor oil and gasoline that seemed to be permanently stuck in the garage. She frowned as she vainly searched for a card or note that would explain why they were there. She felt the frown leave and a softer smile came on her face as she saw that the thorns had all been snapped off the long stems.

And later that day, when the Martians came over to catch the game on TV, she noticed the band-aids on Vincent's fingers. She saw the tiny smears of green on his knuckles that could only come from a plant's juices. Pretending to brush some dirt off his shoulder, she sought and found the slightest trace of sweet scent on his fur.

Charlene remembered and now understood what Stoker had meant when he had talked about Vinnie. She couldn't help but agree with him.

"That boy can be a real sweet kid, when he thinks nobody's looking."


	18. The First Drink

What the hell, you guys have waited very patiently, so here's two for you!

I do not condone drinking to excess. A few drinks, when the legal age and with a designated driver, are alright in my book as long as you're responsible. But I figured Charley was allowed a tiny bit of leeway, since it's a very, very bad day.

Disclaimer: I own no Martians, no mechanics, and sadly enough I ran out of tequila.

The First Drink

To say they were surprised to see her come through the scoreboard's door at one o'clock in the morning was an understatement. She carried a bag of large glass bottles filled with an amber colored liquid and shot glasses. Charley had an oddly blank look on her face as she pulled out the glass bottles and set up the glasses on their table, four in all. She poured a hefty amount in each one and handed them out to her bros, keeping a bottle in one hand and her glass in the other. "Hiya, cute and furries, did I wake you?"

"Charley-girl? What's the matter?" Throttle asked as he stretched out from his spot on the couch. He was careful to balance the glass to not spill anything before sitting up.

"Yeah, what brings you to our pad at-(yawn)-this gods-forsaken hour?" Vinnie asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand and looking curiously at his drink with the other.

"You boys ever had tequila?"

"Tequila? What's that?" Modo asked as he rolled out of bed, putting his glass on the nightstand.

"Wonderful stuff," she said. "Might not taste that great, but it gets the job done."

"What job?" Throttle asked warily.

She gave a small, regretful smile. "Doesn't take away pain, it makes you forget you ever had any. Overdue mortgage, busted up truck, dealin' with real shitty people, even broken hearts; you don't remember any of it. Of course, that doesn't fix anything, but it's nice to let go for a while." She raised her glass in a toast. "Here's to you, boys!" She downed the entire glass in one swallow.

The Martians exchanged looks. Throttle went over to her, taking her arm and steering her over to the couch as Modo took their glasses over to the sink and dumped them out. Vinnie gathered up the bottles and put them out in the hallway. "There a reason you think you need this, Charley-girl?" Throttle asked softly.

"Oh, I don't need it," she said, her words just beginning to slur. "It's not even for me, really."

"Then who's it for?" Modo asked as he sat by her side, his hand inching towards the bottle to get it away from her.

"I ever tell you guys how me and Jack broke up?" she asked.

All three startled a bit at the change in topic. "Uh, no, you didn't," Vinnie answered.

"Aw, no? M'sorry, it's a good story. Well you see, I was at the church, all dolled up, you should have seen me. White dress, veil, make-up, the whole nine yards. The church looked great, everyone on both sides of the family was there, and his family too. Even that dragon of a mother of his, nothing like your Momma, Modo-honey, this lady was a real dragon. I kept checking for fire-breathing.

"Anyway, we're all there, music's playin', all my bridesmaids are rarin' to go, but there's just one tiny problem." She poured herself another shot before Modo could get it away from her and downed it in one gulp. "No Jack."

"No Jack? Where was he?" Vinnie asked.

"That's jus' it," she said. "Nobody knew. His best man was freakin' out, the mom was loosin' her mind, and I heard his dad say that he was gonna kill 'im. I was startin' to worry 'bout his physical safety when another one of his friends comes in. Says he found him out at a hotel in Butchertown, so I hopped on my bike and went to go get him. I was a wee bit ticked, you see."

They could only imagine how angry their fiery mechanic had been, shuddering at the thought of her so mad. The last person that had stood her up was Roddie Van Hamm on prom night in her senior year of high school, and she'd shot at him with a bazooka. "What'd you do to him?" Modo asked.

"Oh nothin'."

"Nothing?!"

"Nope. Couldn't. I was cryin' too much." She gave a very tiny hiccup and poured herself another shot.

All three went still. "Why?" Throttle asked.

"He was in bed with some other girl," she said blithely. "You know, I always thought if I ever found him cheatin' on me, I'd beat the shit out of him. Turns out, no, I jus' busted out cryin' and headed out for a bar. Gettin' drunk sounded _reeeeeaally _good right about then."

"Can't imagine why," Modo muttered, his eye glowing red with anger. The next time McCyber came to visit, he'd be having a long talk with the human. He saw the same look on his bros' faces.

"So I went to go drown my pathetic sorrows at this real interestin' place called the Holly and Vine. Bouncer almost threw me out, 'cuz I was too young, but I think he had pity on me with the dress 'n the tears 'n all. He walked me up to the bar and told the guy to get me somethin' real nice, black tequila, this stuff right here," she held up the bottle for them to see, slamming back the shot in her hand. "That's where I met the nicest guy. And why I'm drinkin' now, you see."

"Huh?" Vinnie asked in confusion.

"I met this guy and he jus' kept the tequila comin'. Talked with me all night, jus' the nicest guy. I got to drown my sorrows in a smokin' hot biker named Raw Dog, it was great! He even walked me home that night, real chivalrous like."

"That was good of him," Throttle said, his tail snaking out and snatching the bottle out of her hand. Vinnie and Modo exchanged relieved looks. It didn't look like their girl needed any more alcohol tonight.

She didn't even notice them. "He was a volunteer firefighter, did ya know that? I really liked him. If he wasn't married, I think I mighta fallen for him. Damn gorgeous wife of his, too nice to not like, know what I mean? I felt horrible for her when he died."

"Died?" Vinnie asked, startled.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Building collapsed on him in the line of duty. Two years ago today. So I go out to his grave every year today 'n bring the tequila 'n we catch up on everything. Well, I talk, he's kind of quiet, you know. I go 'n remember a real nice guy, on the day I almost married a real jerk, so it don't hurt as much." She frowned in thought. "'M beginnin' to think today might be cursed, all this bad stuff happenin' all at once. Might just be my luck though.

"I already been out to the grave and talked with him, only had the one drink. Can't drive when I drink this stuff, so I came to see my favorite fur-balls." She blinked at her empty glass and frowned at her empty hand. "I coulda sworn I had a bottle with me. I wanted to share with you guys too. Keep the tradition."

Throttle glanced at his bros and saw the same expression on their faces that he knew was on his own. He pulled the bottle out from behind the couch as Modo went and got the shot glasses back out. "Hey, I found the bottle, Charley."

"Oh good! To Raw Dog, the nicest guy I ever met!" she said cheerfully as she raised her glass in a toast.

Throttle poured some into each glass, and the Mice raised up their glasses with hers.


	19. The First Visitor

_"God is a comedian playing to an audience too terrified to laugh." --Voltaire_

The First Visitor

It was a very good day at the Last Chance Garage. Charley was actually busier than normal, with four cars lined up outside and two trucks in the bay as it was. Vinnie and Modo were helping to set a new transmission into an older semi-truck as Charley worked underneath it, when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Throttle said, wiping his hands off as he walked into the small office. "Last Chance Garage, what can I get you? Yes, she's here, but she's busy right now, can I take a message? Let me get a pen."

"Oh honey, you're such a good little secretary," Vinnie called gleefully.

"How about you get me a coffee, sweet cheeks?" Modo teased.

"Don't forget the sugar!"

"Oh, blow it out your ears!" Throttle yelled before turning back to the phone. "I'm sorry, sir, just some problems with the help, what was that you said? Okay. Sure, I'll tell her. 'Bye." He walked to the semi, leaning over his snickering bros as they held the transmission still, crossing his arms as he spoke, "You two do know that I have my hands free, right?"

Vinnie and Modo exchanged confused looks. "So?"

Throttle grinned evilly. "So I'm free to do this." He reached down and before they could stop him, he knotted their tails together.

"_Hey_!!" The two exchanged panicked looks and strained their tails to get unknotted.

Throttle chuckled. "That should teach you, mudpuppies."

They hurriedly finished the transmission, fighting to get their long tails undone and away from each other. Charley rolled out from under the semi, brushing some hair from her face with the back of her hand to keep the oil off her cheek. "All joking aside, you took that call like a pro, Throttle, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Literally," he said with a light blush.

She laughed at his embarrassment. "So what's the job?"

"No job, the guy just said he wanted to talk to you. He gave me his cell phone number for you to call back if you didn't see him later."

"Really? Who was it?"

"Some guy named Radar. He said you'd know who it was, and Charley-girl, are you okay?" He asked worriedly.

Charley-girl had gone white as a sheet. "R-....Radar? He said his name was Radar?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Throttle asked.

"This Radar guy mean trouble, Charley?" Modo asked, finally getting free of the knot.

"Cause we're always available to take out anybody that bothers you," Vinnie said as he straightened out the kinks in his tail.

"Oh no, no," she said, slowly standing up and glancing around the garage in what looked like growing panic, "I'll be fine, just fine. And you guys wouldn't stand a chance. Oh my god, this place is a mess!"

"What do you mean, we wouldn't stand a chance?!" Vinnie said indignantly.

"He's a three time Purple Heart decorated, Vietnam war veteran, Marine pilot and ex-Green Beret," she said absently as she glanced up to the loft where some of the boys' shirts hung from the railing. "Jeez, guys, couldn't you put your laundry up just _once_?!"

The bros glanced at each other. "We could take him," Vinnie speculated.

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head, "he knows how to kill people with a napkin. He could shake your hand, hit a pressure point, and make your heart explode in your chest, and do you guys have any idea where my vacuum cleaner is?"

They were staring at her now. "Why does she know a guy like that?" Modo murmured to Throttle, who could only shrug in response.

"What about long distance warfare? We've got missles," Vinnie said hopefully.

"So does he," Charley answered. "And I swear, if one of you three used my vacuum for spare parts for your toy race cars again, I'll skin you alive. My god, it'll take _hours _to get this place cleaned up!"

Throttle walked over and took her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Who is Radar, Charley-girl?"

She startled like she had forgotten they were actually there. "Huh? What? Radar? That's his nickname."

"Who's nickname?"

"Captain Ryan Theodore Davidson, nicknamed Radar because his original squad leader always swore he could tell what was coming before the radar could ever spot it." She suddenly smiled at them in what looked like.....pride? "He's my dad."

"_Your dad?!"_

Her smile suddenly fell as she grabbed onto Throttle shoulders. "What else did he say on the phone?!"

Throttle's eyes went wide in shock at the sudden touch, "Uh, not much, just that he was coming to town for some special-ordered parts and he'd be stopping by before he left for home."

"Did he give an estimate of when he'd be here?" she asked intently.

"Well he said he was about three hundred miles out"--

"_Four hours?! _He'll be here in _four hours_?!" she cried. "But the garage is a disaster area, the house is worse--oh my god, your stuff is all over the house!! Move your furry tails! Everything, every pair of jeans, socks, and underwear, all of it, out of this house right now!! The tools and parts too, and my god, don't any one of you three leave any laser pistol parts lying around! He can't know you're here!"

"What's the big deal?" Vinnie asked, bewildered. "Its just your father."

"_What's the big deal?!" _she shrieked, "I'll tell you what the big deal is! My father, my Marine veteran father, who has probably seen more wartime than you three put together, is coming here, to visit his one and only child, his daughter, who just so happens to live all alone in a city known all over the country for the dangerous stuff that goes on here. And just what do you think will happen when said father finds out that his baby-girl is hosting _Martians _in the house? Three much-bigger-than-her _**guy **_Martians with tattoos and piercings, and all of them packing heat?" She blanched. "Oh god, I can hear the gunfire already."

The Martians were silent for a minute. When the situation was put like that, it sounded.....kind of bad. "So, you need us to get our stuff out. Anything else we can do to help?" Throttle asked.

Charley's eyes squeezed shut as she thought, her mind going a mile a minute. "Help me straighten up the kitchen, get the bathrooms cleaned, and somebody please find me the vacuum cleaner."

"Will do. Vinnie, get the bathrooms, Modo, you hit the kitchen, and I'll get the clothes out of here," Throttle said.

"Aw, man, why do I have to get the bathrooms?" Vinnie whined.

Charley suddenly spoke as they were about to get moving. "Guys? I'm sorry, I know I'm going to pieces, but I haven't seen my dad in two years and if he finds out about you, it'll be World War three. I just don't want to have to get into a fight with him right now. Thank you so much for putting up with this."

"Ah, Charley-darlin', this is nothing," Modo said.

"It'll be cool," Vinnie nodded. "We'll be outta here in no time, sweetheart."

Throttle smiled at her, "Yeah, we've got this, babe."

_Please, please god, let this work out alright_, she quietly prayed. Of course, they say an unanswered prayer is God's way of playing a joke.

Three hours later.....

"Wow, guys, I didn't know you had it in you," Charley said in amazement as she looked over the garage and house. Everything was put in in the right place, no laundry was left undone or left out, the kitchen was spotless, and the garage floor practically shone. Even her tools had been polished and placed in proper order in her toolboxes.

"Neither did we," Modo said as he leaned against the wall, honestly tired from the grueling pace they'd set.

"I never want to see another polishing pad again," Vinnie said, so worn out that even his antennae drooped.

Throttle blew out a breath, "Well, if that's everything, we'd better be going."

"Guys really, thank you, thank you so much," Charley said. "I swear I'll make it up to you. Movies, food, new stuff, you name it."

Vinnie made an effort to leer, "How 'bout a date, sweetheart?"

"When and where?"

All three mice's jaws dropped. "My god, the strain's made her crack," Modo whispered in stunned amazement.

"Are you serious?" Vinnie asked in mild shock.

"Sure, a date with all four of us. That ought to be a new record in speed dating," she laughed. "But you guys better hurry. The whole point of this is for him to never know you guys were here."

"A little late for that," a new voice said coldly.

The four whirled to face the back door, where a mountain of a man stood. Ryan Davidson was easily Modo's height and almost as broad in the shoulder, and his dark brown hair was peppered with grey. A black leather jacket with several biker gang patches covered a red t-shirt, and snake-skin cowboy boots were almost covered by the black jeans he wore. Hard green eyes were glaring over Charley's head to lock onto the three Martains behind her. This man was clearly not one to mess with, his body still in great shape and he even stood like a soldier ready for battle.

But his most frightening feature was surely the twin sawed-off shotguns he held, one in each hand. They were aimed at chest height, most likely to make a one shot, one kill.

"D-Daddy?" Charley said in surprise. "You're early."

"Made good time on the freeway."

"You didn't have to rush, you know," she said ruefully.

"You didn't answer the phone."

She frowned slightly, "Is that why you came here so fast? Its just been busy today and I couldn't get to the phone in time."

"You know that's not the issue here."

"So someone besides me answered the phone, Dad, that's not something to get angry about."

"A man that I don't know, and one you never told me about, answered your phone," he said, patiently explaining why he was angry. "He answered it like he'd been doing it for a long time, and had been to our garage, your home, several times. One of these....men?"

"Mice, sir. Martian Mice," Throttle said, fighting the urge to duck his head like an embarrassed kid when the man focused on him. Charley's father reminded him of Stoker in his prime, with a scary dose of Scabbard mixed in.

"Martians? As in, from Mars?" the man frowned.

"Yes sir," Modo answered.

"Mars?" he repeated in disbelief.

Vinnie wanted to say it, wanted to say it _so _bad, but Throttle and Modo both slapped their hands over his mouth before he could ask if echoing was a family trait. "Yes, sir, we're from Mars," the tan mouse replied. "I'm Throttle, the big guy's Modo, and this one here is Vincent."

"I see." Ryan's eyes were getting a little wide as he fought to process what he was seeing.

"Dad? You think you could put the shotguns down now?" Charley said, walking up to him.

"Not yet. Not until one of you answers a few questions," he replied.

Modo had to stop himself from saying, 'fire away.' "What would you like to know, sir?"

Unbeknown to Throttle and Modo, Vinnie's face had begun to turn blue from lack of oxygen.

"Well, the whole 'why are you here, how did you get here, what's going on,' that can all wait for a bit. The important parts come first. How did you meet my daughter, why are all of you in her house, and exactly how long has this been going on, young lady?!" he shouted, his composure slipping at last.

Vinnie started pulling on his bros' arms, trying to get them to move their hands away from his face.

"Daddy, they do not live here, okay?! None of them live here, they live at the Quigly Scoreboard," she explained quickly, knowing that was his biggest issue.

The grey mouse caught on to what the younger one was trying to tell them and moved his hand away. Vinnie gasped for air, nearly bent over with the force of his breathing.

"They live across town? Good," Radar said in relief, finally lowering the shotguns. Well, from chest-high to waist-high. "Then why are they here now?"

"Had to tune up my sweetheart," Vinnie panted.

"Who?"

The white mouse pointed to his cherry red racing bike. "Her. The fastest bike in the galaxy."

Radar stared in obvious appreciation. "Just look at that engine. Its gorgeous. Is the Soft Tail and the Fat Boy yours too?"

"Oh no," Vinnie said hurriedly as Lil' Hoss and Throttle's bike revved in denial. "Those are Throttle and Modo's."

"Are they in for work too?" he asked curiously.

"Just some regular maintenance, nothing big," Modo said, walking over to his beloved bike and patting the seat. "Charley keeps these ladies running like new. I wouldn't trust my darlin' to any other mechanic now."

"Modo," Charley said with a blush, "thank you."

"So you three always come over to my daughter's house together?" her father asked in a dangerously casual voice.

"We were helping her with all the new work that came in today," Throttle said quickly.

"She called us over to replace her tranny cradle," Modo muttered.

Ryan frowned at her. "What happened to the tranny cradle?"

"Used it to bash a villian," she replied.

He stared at her. "A _villain_?"

She blushed a bit at his look. "I know it sounds nuts, but you really need to hear the whole story first. Then all the insanity makes sense."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "You know that's an oxymoron, right?"

"No, really?" she said sarcastically before sighing. "I know how crazy this is all going to sound. Like a cheesy sci-fi flick with motorcycles. But its all true, and once you know the story, I know you'll be alright with this."

Radar made a visible effort to not roll his eyes. "Sure, I'll be perfectly fine with you hanging out with Martian Mice. And they're bikers, even better."

She gaped at him for a full five seconds. "Oh, don't you even try to play that card, Mr. Hypocrite! You've been a biker since you were fourteen years old and riding a '56 Hog in the downtown Razorbacks gang!"

He rolled his eyes, "Okay, okay. I swear, you're worse than your mother."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"This had better be some story," he groused, finally aiming the shotguns at the floor. The three Mice gave a quiet sigh of relief. It had been abundantly clear that Ryan Davidson had no problem with the idea of killing any male he found near his daughter. Even they, with all their experiences and bravery, weren't willing to take on an angry father that thought he was defending his daughter's honor.

Forty minutes later, hot dogs and root beer had been served and the long story had been told to a now quietly thoughtful Radar. "So you boys have been fighting since all of you were thirteen. Damn. I wouldn't wish war on anyone, especially not kids."

"You do what you have to do," Throttle said.

"And it ain't so hard to do when you're defending your family," Modo said firmly.

"Too right," Radar nodded. "And now those stinking fish are here, on our planet. I always did hate corporate businessmen."

"Now you have an excuse," Charley quipped. "Mom will be thrilled." She smiled at her father and the three friends that seemed to be getting along with him. "I'll get the dishes out of here."

"Need help?" Modo asked, moving to get up.

"No, no, I'm good, you guys keep talking," she waved him off, carrying the few plates out of the room. The sound of quiet singing could be heard as she went to wash up.

Radar glanced at the kitchen door and then looked back across the table at the Martians. "Tell me you keep her out of the fighting."

"When she lets us," Throttle said.

"She always wants to come with us," Modo said with a sigh. "We try and keep her here as much as we can, but sometimes it happens when she's already with us."

"I'm not surpresed," Radar said grimly. "Has she ever been injured?"

They exchanged nervous looks. "Once," Throttle answered. "She saved me from a crash in an oil refinery and got hurt when some pipes fell on her. She almost broke her ribs." He looked away, old shame staining his voice. "I'm sorry, Mr. Davidson."

"Don't be," Radar said quietly. "She's always been like that, willing to protect her friends no matter what. Its just who she is." His mouth pulled into a wry smile. "She ever boss you around?"

"All the time," Vincent griped. "I swear to you, it never ends! 'Clean the floor, pick up your clothes, quit using all the good shampoo.' Its like having a second mother."

Modo scowled at his bro, then reached over and smacked the back of his head. Hard.

"Ow!!"

"Thanks," Radar gave a polite nod to the grey mouse.

"You're welcome."

In the blink of an eye the shotguns were suddenly back out and pointing at the three Mice. "If any one of you three hurt my daughter, you'll wish I had shot you now," Ryan Davidson said in a calm voice. "And sadly enough, I probably won't get the chance to do it. She might not look it, but she really can take care of herself. You see, that little girl is my pride and joy, and I didn't want her to get into any sort of trouble without having a fighting chance of getting out of it. I taught her to ride like a stunt man, shoot like a sniper, build like a Greek, and design like a mad genius. That girl can do things with metal and wiring I've never even dreamed of.

"And even better, my daughter is a brilliant strategist. She could probably invade a small country if she put her mind to it. So if you don't mind," he said in a mock-gracious voice to Vincent, "I'd appreciate it if you showed her a little more respect. If for no other reason that this; she knows where you live, she's seen where you sleep, and she knows how to build explosives."

Vinnie clearly had never thought about it that way, and he nodded frantically. "Y-yes sir."

"Good," the man said, sliding the guns into the specially designed holster on his back. "I think I'll go have a little talk with my daughter now." He got up from the table and walked to the kitchen, the door swinging shut.

All three mice let out a nervous breath. "You know, I'm really glad he likes us," Modo said.

"No kidding," Throttle agreed. "I've never seen anyone so quick on the draw. And Vincent, the next time he comes over, you keep your big mouth shut!"

"Shhh!" the younger mouse said as he cocked his head to the side. "They're talking."

The other mice glared at him. "Now you're going to eavesdrop on them?" Throttle asked incredulously. "What is wrong with you?"

"You can't sit there and tell me you aren't curious about what she'll say to him," he argued. Their sensitive hearing could easily catch the voices that carried from the kitchen. The two talked about the garage, how the people they knew were doing, the going's on of other members of the family. In a few minutes, the conversation came to the Martians.

Her father was still adjusting to the idea. "You really went to Mars, baby?"

"Twice! I've got pictures and everything," she grinned.

"My god. The first lady on Mars is my little girl," he shook his head in amazement. "I always figured you were meant for great things, but I never thought it'd be something like this."

"Its been one hell of a ride, Dad. I couldn't make some of this stuff up if I tried. Super villains and monsters and evil bosses. Its like Saturday morning cartoons, just....real."

Ryan Davidson looked at his only child with understandable worry. "Are you safe with them?"

"Dad, how can you ask that? They're the best friends I've ever had, I wouldn't trade them for anyone!"

"...honey, that's not what I asked you."

She grimaced. "We're fighting off the Scum of the Universe, Dad. Our whole world is in danger of something worse than all the terrorists and Nazi's put together. So no, its not safe. But I can't just sit here and do nothing! You taught me better than that."

"I know, sweetheart, and now that I know about this war, I'll be looking out for it where we live. Your mother--oh, lord, I have no idea what to tell your mother."

"The truth works best with her, when you can tell it," Charley answered. "And I think Mom might surprise you. Heaven knows she does it to me often enough."

"True." He grimaced. "They do take care of you, right?"

"You think they need to?"

"When you're up against something worse than terrorists and Nazi's put together, yes."

She sighed. "Yes, Dad, they watch out for me. I've seen them fight for me." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I never thought anyone would fight for me like that, Dad. One time, Modo got hurt real bad protecting me. I--I still have nightmares about that. They'd risk their own flesh and blood for me, and it scares me to pieces that I'll loose one of them like that someday."

"Oh, baby-girl," her father reached over and pulled his child into a firm embrace.

On the other side of the door, Modo was staring in surprise. "She's still upset about that?"

"You're surprised?" Throttle asked incredulously.

Ryan went on, "Sweetie, if they care about you, of course they're going to try and protect you. Throttle was telling me about the time you protected him, so I'm pretty sure they feel the same way about you." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject, so he decided to change it. "So Throttle, you said he's their leader?"

"Command Sergent Major in the Martian Army, if I heard Carbine right," Charley answered. "He hates being called that though."

"Hmm. It takes talent to reach that rank. He acted like he didn't like the military much."

"None of them do. You heard them, their government nearly killed off their own army just to make money, but even worse, the army went along with it. They ignored people in need and just did what their bosses said. Those three can't stand people like that, so being ranked as one fo them gets on their nerves."

He nodded in understanding. "I know that feeling. But I've never seen soldiers act like they do, even when they're together for a while. They act like they're real brothers."

"They've been through too much not to," she said softly. "You can't go through all the stuff they did and not be more than just a fighting unit. They've seen stuff like the Holocaust, Daddy, and even worse, they lived through it. I have no idea how they can still smile and laugh like they do. I don't think I'll ever be that strong."

They were quiet for a moment. "You really admire them, don't you?"

They could hear her smile, "Yeah, I do. Don't ever say anything, but they really are my heroes. Right up there with you, Dad."

All three Martians were rendered speechless by her words.

"Aw, kiddo." They heard him shift against the counter. "That white one, Vincent. Anything between you two I should know about?"

"Huh? No."

"...Charley, you're just like your mom. Terrible liar."

"I'm not lying."

He snorted, but his tone wasn't unkind when he spoke. "Uh-huh. Sure you're not." He shifted again, this time sounding extremely uncomfortable. "Okay, honey, if you say you and Vincent aren't together, I believe you. And I know you're an adult now, but you're still young, Charley, and there's some important things you need to know when you"--he sounded like he was about to choke--"get physically involved with"--

She gasped in horror, "Oh god, no, Dad, please tell me you're not trying to give me the sex talk!"

Of all the topics the two could have covered, nothing could prepare the bros for this bomb. Throttle's jaw dropped, Modo's eye went huge, and Vinnie's tail nearly went into spasms from shock.

"I'm your father and I have a responsibility. If anything, I'm more embarrassed than you."

"No you're not. You couldn't be this embarrassed if you _tried_! And Momma gave me this talk when I turned eleven, so please drop it."

"You didn't have a Martian flirting with you when you were eleven," he muttered.

"You didn't do this to me when I was engaged to Jack! _Engaged_! Now some guy flirts with me and it brings this on?"

"You never looked at Jack like you look at him," her father answered. "And just tell me you two are being responsible."

They could actually hear her blushing, "_Its not like that!"_

"Look, I trust you, honey, and I know you don't want to tell me anything about this, and I really don't want to hear it"--

"Because there's nothing to hear about!" she said in complete mortification. "Seriously, Dad, we haven't even gone on a date yet. And even if we were dating, and we're not, I promise you, we'd"--she made a tiny embarrassed sound and her voice squeaked as she went on--"be careful. Can we please, _please_ drop this now?"

"Yep, sure thing," he said in obvious relief. "So, want me to pass on any messages to your mother, since you never call her?"

"Dad," she groaned.

"Sorry, I was ordered to pass on the guilt trip. Is it working?"

"Always does," she replied. "I'll call, I promise."

"Good. Now, are there any other little secrets I need to know about?"

"None that I can think of."

"Alright then. And I'll catch your mother up to speed on all of this. She deserves to know."

"No arguements here."

Radar suddenly laughed. "Now I understand why Harry's been freaking out."

"Harry the colonel? The one who runs the armory outside of town?"

"The very one. He's been sounding like he's having a nervous breakdown for months now, and I bet your boys are the reason. I'll do what I can to keep him out of your hair."

"Thank you. That really means a lot to me."

"No problem. Well, I've got to get going, your mom's going to start worrying soon. Be safe, 'Lene-girl."

"I will," they heard her kiss his cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too." The back door opened with a slight creak. "Tell those boys I'll be seeing them later."

"You shouldn't threaten people like that."

"Wiseacre."

She laughed, "See you later, Dad."

"Bye." The house was suddenly very quiet. They almost jumped out of their fur when the door opened. "Dad had to go, but he sends his best wishes. You guys okay?"

"Fine, fine," Throttle said. The Martian couldn't look her in the eye. He was far too embarrassed. He gave a fake stretch, "But its getting late, we should be going, right bros?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Vinnie said in a subdued voice, a red blush practically glowing under his fur.

"We'll be back tomorrow to help you finish up," Modo said as they hurried over to their bikes.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe," she called as they went out the door.

"Bye, Charley-girl!" They rode out into the night, tail lights fading in the distance.

She couldn't help her embarrassed blush as she spoke. "You three furballs. Like I didn't know you could hear us through the door."


	20. The First Game

I paid a visit to my sister's house the other day, and overheard my nephews and friends talking as they played their favorite video game. The converstation throughout the story is what they said, narratum-verbatum.

Disclaimer: I own no franchise, console, or copyright. Nothing. Zip, zilch, nada.

The First Game

Charley thought it was always interesting to watch her bros play games. Chinese checkers, regular checkers, Monopoly, and even poker where always more interesting when the Martians played them. Mostly because sooner or later the table would be in pieces, chairs would be tipped over on the floor, and the game itself would be strewn all over the room.

She'd seen them play Bottles and Broadies, a bike skid game that Modo was the undisputed master of. She'd seen them play their version of Earth soccer, (which involved four players, AI motorcycles, and land mines.) She'd seen them play American football, (with a rule that claimed that body checks with a bazooka were perfectly legal, but with a refrigerator were not.)

"DIE, YOU HUNTER SCUMBAGS!!"

"HE'S ON YOUR FLANK!! THE _RIGHT_ FLANK, YOU IDIOT!!"

"I KNOW!!"

"_MY RIGHT_, MUDPUPPY!!"

But this? Charley shook her head. What in God's name had possessed her when she'd given in to Vinnie's whining and bought them an X-box?

"AAHHH!! WATCH-THE-JACKALS, WATCH-THE-JACKALS, WATCH-THE"---

boom!

"(sigh) Too late."

They absolutely loved video games. Who knew? All three of them were good at it, all three of them had favorite game titles, and all three of them were viciously competitive when it came to multiplayer mode. The trio had accompanied her to the electronics store and once they'd seen the console section, that was it. Modo was all for a collector's edition Super Nintendo NES. He had a taste for the classics, and was especially fond of Final Fantasy and Legend of Zelda in old-school mode. Throttle had wanted a PlayStation 2 or 3, since it also had the advantage of playing DVDs. And he claimed that nothing beat Final Fantasy 10 on that console, and could beat the entire game, with all the side-quests, in less than ten hours.

"STUPID TAIL-KNOTTING GRUNTS!!"

Vincent, however, had campaigned long and hard for an X-box. While he'd rarely ever had the chance to play on it, he had found one game in particular that he truly enjoyed. And as soon as he'd introduced it to his bros, they'd quickly agreed.

"Hey, Vinnie, have you ever unlocked the thing where if you shoot a Grunt in the head, it explodes and confetti shoots out everywhere?" Modo asked.

Charley swore to God that she'd shoot the person who'd had the brilliant idea to introduce that mouse to Halo.

"Yeah! I love it when that happens--THERE, THERE, HE'S OVER THERE, SHOOT HIM!!!"

"NO, REALLY?!!" Throttle shouted sarcastically. Charley couldn't help but be impressed. She'd had no idea you could shout sarcastically untill then.

Throttle had fallen in love with the game's shooting system. Modo loved the melee style fighting, especially once the plasma grenades got involved. Both Mice thought the game had a great plot. And Vincent? Well--

"Mother of Mars, I want an Energy Sword so _**bad**_!! Charley-girl, are you sure you can't build me one?"

She was convinced it gave him bad ideas. "For the last time, Vinnie, I will not build you anything you see off Halo!! If I was going to build anything you've seen in a game, it'd be the BFG!"

As one, all three Martians turned from the tv screen where Throttle's character was now being slaughtered by Zealot Elites to look at her. Modo stared. "The BFG? From Doom?"

"Hell yes," she said with a grin. "Now there was a weapon. The maker of that gun believed in extreme prejudice. It's been listed on every major list of top video game weapons since the lists started."

"What's a BFG?" Vinnie asked.

Modo and Charley exchanged looks, shaking their heads. "Kids these days. No sense of history."

*&*&&*&*

(grins) If anyone doesn't know what the BFG is, ask me in a review and I'll gladly tell you. I'd list it here, but every time I tried to load this chapter, it kept getting mis-spelled or replaced with something else. Hope you like it!


	21. The First TV Show

I own nothing, sadly enough, but I just recently discovered 'Desperate Housewives'. Thus, this ficlet was born.

The First TV Show

Charley grumbled as she made her way up many flights of stairs that led to the Quigly Scoreboard's entrance._ All the time they have free between Tower constructions, and they can't make time to build an elevator? _The lady mechanic was seeking shelter from a rather spectacular storm that had knocked out power to the garage. She'd managed to call her bros on the communicator, and they'd gladly offered her a bed at the 'Board, as they still had power and hot water.

She pushed open the thick metal door, ignoring the sounds coming from the tv the three mice were glued to as she tossed her small bag of stuff on the table. As she walked over to the couch to join them, she called out, "Hey guys, what are you watching?"

Charley caught the image of a very scantly-clad girl on a bed before three Martians nearly killed each other trying to shut off the tv at the same time. "Ch-Charley! When'd you get here?" Throttle stammered, his hands locked on the remote control.

"W-we didn't even hear you come in," Modo said, trying to stop his blush as he got up from the floor.

"So d-did you make it here okay?" Vinnie asked nervously. "Well, I mean, obviously you made it here okay, you're here, but were the roads bad or something?"

There was an awkward pause as she stared at the three of them, a blush growing on her face as she figured out what could make her bros act like this. _What did you expect, Charlene, they're guys. Guys more than ten million miles away from a female of their species. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen_. "Oh no, the roads were fine. And you don't have to stop watching Cinemax on my account."

Throttle, being the one who had hotwired the 'Board to get cable, understood what she was asking and couldn't stop the fire-red blush from igniting under his fur. "Cine--What?! No!"

Vinnie frowned, "What's Cinemax?"

"Its more like Skin-emax," she answered flippantly.

Vinnie was still lost. "Huh?"

Instant blush on the nuclear level from Modo. "You wanna take this one, Throttle?"

"Hell no."

"Please?"

"No."

"You know, all the blushing kind of gives it away," she remarked.

"But we weren't!" Throttle protested.

"Weren't what?" Vinnie asked in growing confusion.

"Watching Cinemax."

Vinnie was completely bewildered now. "I thought it was Skin-emax?"

"No!"

"What the hell is Skin---Cine---whatever-max?!"

Charley (despite her growing blush) calmly answered, "Porn."

"Ah. Well, why didn't you just say--WHAT?!!"

Modo's head nearly ignited from blushing. "NO!! We weren't watching that!"

"Really?"

"NO!!"

"Oh. Okay. Because I can leave so you can keep watching"--

"NO!!" Modo roared in embarrassment. "We are not watching.." his voice died down to almost nothing as he tried to force the word out, "...p-...p-porn."

"Alright, I believe you. So what were you watching?"

"Soccer"--"News"--"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow at them for the conflicting answers.

Glares were exchanged amoung the three as they tried again. "News"--"Nothing"--"Soccer." Throttle smacked the backs of his bros' heads hard, nearly starting a fight.

Charley couldn't help her laughter at the sight of them rolling around like two-year olds. "Ha, ha! C'mon guys, just give me the remote."

"No way, lady, our show's on"--Modo slapped a hand over Vincent's big mouth.

"Your show?"

"It, its nothing, just some stupid guys show, you wouldn't like it," Throttle said quickly.

" 'Overhaulin' '?"

Vinnie blinked in surprise. "Huh? No"--

"'Trucks'?"

"No--Ow!" Throttle had jabbed his elbow into his side, "Shut up and agree with her already," he

growled, too low for Charley to hear.

"How about 'This Old House'?"

"Bob Vila is the Devil," Modo said firmly.

Everyone turned to stare at him, but Charley was the only one brave enough to ask, "What?"

"Its always the one you least suspect, so you should suspect them the most," he said, his tone perfectly matter-of-fact.

"....Okay, then. Oh!! What about 'Orange County Choppers'? I love that show!"

"But all you do is yell at Paul and Junior that they're idiots," Throttle said in confusion.

"No rocket launchers, no thrust-propulsion system, or even ice sliders. I feel perfectly justified in calling them idiots for wasting so much potential in a bike. But they still make gorgeous rides."

Vinnie shook his head, "Oh, no, its not that"--

"My Little Pony?"

The jaws of all three Mice hit the floor. "WHAT?!?!"

"C'mon, guys. You would never be embarrassed about a guy show, so whatever you're watching, its gotta be girly. Rainbow Bright? Powerpuff Girls? Ooh! Horseland! No? How about"--

"NOOOO!! Sweet Mars, I'd rather you still thought we were watching porn," Vinnie groused.

"Well then, what?!" she exclaimed. "What in the world could be so bad?" She glanced at the clock and scowled. "Bad enough I'm going to miss my show over all this he-man, macho crap. Give me the remote, now."

It wasn't a request. Throttle blushed feircely as he muttered, "It's--its called....aw, hell." He grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on, the opening credits for Desperate Housewives coming on the screen. All three Martians were blushing burning red as she saw what they'd been hiding.

"You guys watch 'Housewives'? What's wrong with that?"

"Huh?"

"Desperate Housewives is the greatest show ever!" she said happily. "I've watched it from the beginning, its awesome! Most every guy I know watches this show."

"Really?"

"Sure. Sex, scandals, humor, its perfect," she replied.

"You....you don't think its like watching a....soap opera?" Vinnie asked, his voice small in embarrassment.

"How dare you speak such blasphemy!!" Charley lunged for the white mouse, tackling him in a headlock and flipping them both over the couch. Throttle and Modo exchanged smiles as they settled down on the couch, admonishing the other two to be quiet as they could barely hear the narrator.


	22. The First Blackmail

I'm sorry its been so long, but real life has been playing havoc with my muse. I found the poor thing shivering in an alley, muttering something about plot bunnies and ninja turtles having a race with Jesus as the referee.

The First Blackmail

Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie were in a very good mood. They had just foiled another evil scheme by Limburger, Chicago was safe once again, and the three Martians were currently surrounded by dozens of very grateful women. The girls were working at the nightclub that Limburger had tried to swindle the owner out of, and they had been almost in tears with gratitude for their furry saviours.

Modo had been the one to call Charley and tell her about the major party the nightclub was having in their honor. He had eagerly invited her to come celebrate, but the mechanic had been having a very long, tiring day, and just wanted to go to bed. But as soon as he told her the club's address, she nearly teleported, she got there so fast. She even was thoughtful enough to bring a camera, which Vinnie greatly appreciated. He claimed so that he could keep track of his new fan club.

(Throttle claimed it was so he had proof that girls actually gave him the time of day.)

The next day, a group of slightly hung over mice made their way over to the Last Chance Garage. Charley greeted them warmly, eagerly showing off the pictures she'd had developed just that morning. The pictures were great; all those girls hanging off the bros was a sight to see! But then Modo finally got to ask the question that he hadn't gotten an answer to last night. "Charley-ma'am, can you tell me what a female impersonator is? When I asked the girls what they did at the club, they all said the same thing, but they all just blushed and laughed when I tried to get them to explain."

"Me too," said Throttle. "I mean, they were all really friendly--"

"_Really _friendly," Vinnie said dreamily.

"--but none of them would give me a straight answer when I asked either."

Charley just smiled, gathering up all the pictures before she would say a word. "Oh, boys, I thought you knew. A female impersonator is a man that dresses up like a woman. They look really convincing too! I bet you might even swear that they _were _a real woman, some of them can look that pretty." She ignored the looks of shock on the three distinctly green-looking Martians' faces, and even side-stepped to avoid Modo as he fainted dead away. "So I think I'll just be keeping these photos. After all, you guys were so happy I brought a camera, I'll bet you want me to keep these safe until Stoker comes to visit so he can see them--"

"_NOOOOO_!" Vinnie wailed. "Oh gods, no, have some mercy, sweetheart!!"

"You wouldn't," Throttle said desperately. "Charley-girl, he'll never let us live this down! C'mon, babe, we'll do anything, just don't let him see those pictures!"

The slow grin that spread over her face was pure evil. "Anything?"

Throttle actually gulped nervously at the look on her face. "Anything."

He would later swear that she spontaneously grew horns and a tail as she told him what they would have to do to keep her silent about the very juicy blackmail she had.....

The orphans laughed and screamed happily as they went down the road, costumes on and bags filling with candy. Three horrifically embarrassed Mice were escorting them for Trick or Treating that night, all in full costume. Throttle was a very Red Power Ranger, nearly bursting at the seams of his almost too small outfit. Vincent was absolutely fuming as his huge clown-shoes honked, the striped blue and white clown suit itching like mad as the night went on. And Modo, well....

He'd been terrifying children all night as a very disturbing Bride of Frankenstein.

As for Charley? She was happily soaking in the tub, the water loaded with bubbles and bath oils as she relaxed. She leaned back against the side of the tub with a smirk, _'That'll teach those three to make fun of my second favorite holiday!'_

&*&*&*&

Happy Halloween!!!!


	23. The First Scars

I couldn't help but wonder what was so bad about the mask. I mean, really, he must be covered in scars from the war. Why would he act ashamed, of all things, about this one? So this was the answer that came to me.

The First Scars

She'd seen them before. Little patches of fur that were missing. Slight gaps or almost gaping tears in their fur. Criss-crossing across their arms, peppered on their chests, twisting over broad shoulder blades, slicing down their backs. They were there on the backs of their calves and thighs, some obviously whip marks from the Plutarkian prison camp they'd escaped from. Strong hands were covered in little missing patches and stripes, even a few in dangerous spots on a tan wrist. Those were almost always covered by the black wrist band he wore, and she understood why.

Under each missing space of color was a terrible white mark. Blank tissue where no fur could ever grow again. Some of those marks were thick and jagged, a rough and quick job done with a blunt needle and coarse thread in the heat of battle. Those were the longest and undeniably the most painful; one even crossing the entire width of a grey-furred back. Others bore a doctor's touch, the stitching neat and fine. Those tended to be shorter; the injuries they came from were usually ignored on the battlefield, or the distraction would cause more than a scar.

There were awful marks on Modo's shoulder, where his cybernetic arm met with warm flesh. They were so tiny and fine, she almost couldn't see them. But then she realized why they were so seemingly small. The real marks were under the metal; flesh that had been ripped by the landmine's explosion, then carved away to make space for the steel limb at Karbunkle's will.

Throttle's face was not un-marked. Where the mad doctor had implanted the bionic eyes, one could easily see the scars from where the scalpels had scraped, gouged, and cut. The imprint of the stitches of where his eyelids had been sewn back on were particularly hideous to him. His vision was almost back to normal but for sensitivity to light; but he would never take his shades off in public, not even at night.

This wasn't to say that they were ashamed of their scars. Far from it. Most of the time, her boys bragged about their battle scars, retelling stories of dare-devil stunts or incredible rescues and missions completed against all odds. And even though they hated to talk about it, and hated to look at some of the reminders, they were not ashamed of what Karbunkle had done to them.

Except for Vincent.

The mask covered something more, she knew. His bros would never begrudge their bro his mask, or the need to protect his ego. Or, as she had once thought, the last physical reminder he had of his beloved Harley. But all the other scars on his body, he boasted of proudly. He loved to brag about how he got his marks, all but that one.

She could understand the need to cover it up; after all, a spot on your arm was no big deal, but your face was a totally different ball game. But he seemed to act like he had his mask for more than remembrance, and more than just a cosmetic protection. Vincent Van Wham was ashamed of his scars under the mask, and she couldn't really understand why.

Until she saw it.

It was an accident, a glimpse of him through steam in the Quigly Stadium's locker room showers. She'd brought him some clean clothes to wear, and had caught a flash of fur standing in front of a mirror. The girl had stopped out of shock. The familiar silver mask was in his hand, the other reaching up with a cloth to bathe the uncovered side of his face. His eyes, though, never once looked in the mirror. A look of utter disgust and shame was on his face, and his jaw was clenched shut in revulsion.

Charley knew she shouldn't look, absolutely knew that she should respect his privacy, but her feet had rooted her to the spot. She couldn't look away no matter how she tried. But she had just barely stifled the gasp of shock at the sight of his uncovered face, fought back the gag of horror. As soon as what she'd seen really processed in her mind, she'd dropped the clothes to the floor and fled, running as fast as she could out into the stadium's upper balcony.

She'd dropped to her knees, shaking and gasping as tears had run down her face. Her stomach nearly heaved out its contents as she saw it again in her mind's eye. No wonder he hid from it, wouldn't look at it at all. No wonder he was so ashamed of it. Charley knew she would dream of that sight for years to come and wake up screaming every time.

She would never forget the sight of Benjamin Boris Karbunkle's initials gouged deep into the side of the valiant Martian's face.


	24. The First Mail

Guys, I'm so sorry this took so long. Here's something funny to make up for it.

....I don't know why, but every time I try to picture Throttle stunned or shocked, I keep getting an impression of Keanu Reeves. And somehow, it fits!

The First Mail

The Mice pulled up to the Last Chance Garage around nine in the morning, ready for some breakfast and in Throttle's case to read the paper. Modo swung by the mailbox on the way in, saving Charley a trip. "Got your mail, Miss Charley."

She smiled at him, "Thanks, Modo." She flipped through the pile, picking out the bills and almost tossing the rest before she looked over to her boys. "Breakfast is on the table guys. Oh hey, here's some stuff you might like, have at it." She handed a few magazines to Vinnie and tossed the rest of the junk mail. Stretching her arms to completely wake up, she made her way into the garage bay to start work.

"Thanks, Charley-girl. Hmm. Motocross Monthly"--

"I call dibs!!"

"All yours, Modo," and he handed the magazine to his bro. "Ah, Mechanics Weekly"--

"Here, bro," Throttle called.

"Sure thing, man. And then there's--hello. Now what is this? Victoria's Secret, huh? Think I'll take a look at that." Vincent sat down at the couch and flipped the magazine open. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at what he saw. "HOLY MOTHER OF MARS AND REMUS!!! Throttle!! Modo!! You gotta see this!!"

Throttle frowned as he went over to his younger bro's side. "What the world's got into you so worked up--whoa. Whoa." His green and black shades nearly slid off his muzzle as he looked at the pictures. "That's a very nice bikini."

Vinnie looked rather dazed. "Bro, I don't think that's a swimsuit."

"Oh. Whoa."

Modo blinked at his tan bro's reaction as he glanced down at the magazine. "Throttle? You okay there--OH MAMA!! Vincent Van Wham, you can't be bringing smut into Miss Charley's house!!"

Vinnie nearly flailed in shock, "But she's the one that ordered it! Here's the address on it! See?! See?!"

"Whoa," Throttle said again, his tail slowly flipping up to turn the page. All three Martians went silent at the sight of the girls on page 32. "_**Whoa**_."

"Indeed," Modo said, a blush spreading across his fur.

"S-so. Does this mean that Charley swings that way?" Vinnie asked in shocked confusion.

"If she is, I'm not gonna be the one to ask her," Modo said, a brilliant blush staining his cheeks and ears through his grey fur.

"But at least she has good taste," Throttle said with a bright blush of his own. It took about a week for Vinnie to work up the courage to ask Charley about Victoria's Secret. And another week for Vinnie to get over the concussion she gave him.


	25. The First Big Mistake

You know someone had to have done this. Some idiot goon was going to be dumb enough to try something like this and underestimate the Bros' response. I guess some people just haven't heard of 'escalation of force.' Poor, dumb bastards.

I thought I'd try something different and do this from the point of view of Limburger's henchmen. Let me know if you like it!

The First Big Mistake of Limburger's Goons

It was just a basic grab and bag, that first time. Just rush in, kidnap the girl, get back to the Tower, and hand her over to Karbunkle or whoever was running the scheme this time. So their first leader, (first because this was the first and only time they ever had him as a boss), leads them in, they grab the girl, and were already heading out the door when they ran right into those freak bikers. Of course they fought, and of course the boss threatened the girl. But this first time was different than all the others that followed after that. That first boss held a gun to the girl's head, and she stomped his foot hard, nearly getting out of his grip. That lead goon grabbed her and yanked her back by the hair and pistol whipped her dead in the face, knocking her unconscious.

He'd struck her right in front of the bikers. Right where they could see him hurt her and smile afterwards.

Instantly, the gang members knew that was a mistake that they would pay for dearly.

The red glow that burned from that giant grey one's eye would haunt the nightmares of that gang for years to come. All his fur bristled in fury, making him look even bigger, and the laser cannon embedded in his metal arm was out and almost glowing from being so highly charged. Every muscle bulged and tensed, every bit of his terrible anger ready to smite down on them. _**"YOU DARE HIT A LADY?! IN FRONT OF ME?!!" **_he roared, such righteous fury screaming in his voice that it shook every one of them to the core.

The white one pulled out six flares of white phosphorus, three in each hand, every flare burning with six thousand degrees of heat that would melt flesh from bone, not even bothering to burn it. Instead of his typical banter, there was nothing but a cold, deadly silence broken only by a low feral growl. His body was tightly wound with fury, his movements sharp and agitated, eager for only one thing; to deliver pain to the one that dared touch their human girl.

And that tan one--dear god, the entire gang nearly wet themselves at the sight of his fury. His green and black shades had slipped low enough on his muzzle to show his blood red eyes, narrowed in focus and utter rage. He almost looked perfectly calm, and was utter silent. Except for the snapping, crackling sound around his fist, the glove he wore so highly charged with power that it looked like lighting was flashing around it. His fur stood on end with the energy, and his deep voice darkened so low that it was almost as if the Devil himself spoke through him. "You're gonna pay for that," was all he said. He made sure the girl was safely off to the side before any of the others moved. And then--

Those three bikers attacked the gang like the fury of God was with them, and maybe it was.

Nearly every single gang member left that fight with at least three broken ribs and as many broken fingers. Several had arms or legs broken, and every last one of them had internal bleeding from one injury or another. All of them were hospitalized. Except for their boss. They never saw their first gang leader again after that bloody, painful, messy fight. Their leader had disappeared so thoroughly, neither cop nor crook ever found hide or hair of him, and nothing had been heard from him or of him ever since that day.

Once news of **that **hit the streets, no one else would work for Limburger, and despite their many failings afterwards, their gang remained the only ones that would. And that was only with such ridiculously high pay that several of the goons took a trip to Maui whenever the Tower fell.

But after that first mistake, they never laid a hand on Charlene Davidson again. Kidnapping and tying her up was done in as polite and gentle a manner as they could manage and still get it done against her will. And they made sure to tell every villain they ever worked with afterwards that physical violence against her was completely off limits, no matter what Limburger or Karbunkle said. They didn't dare harm her again.

After all, stupid as they may be, they weren't suicidal.

Although they seriously wondered about Greasepit.


	26. The First Question

Wow. I am astonished. I did some looking, and this story has the highest amount of reviews for a single story in this entire fandom. I bow before you all. You guys are the ones that help inspire me and keep this story going. You all rock.

And please, go check out "The Long Road Home". Its an awesome story about Modo's father. It starts out slow, but now we're into a kidnapping by Limburger, the bros are having to work with Rats to get Modo back, and Karbunkle has rebuilt a mind-control device!! Drama, suspense, angst, and even some comedy! Its a great story that needs some love. Show the love, y'all!!

The First Question

Charlene had seen her boys go into her backyard carrying some very questionable things about ten minutes ago. Now normally, she wouldn't worry too much about such a thing, as they were pretty responsible about things, at least around her house. She actually felt a bit sorry for them and let them get away with a lot of stuff she normally would call the cops for. After all, her bros were a little too confined by their status as honest-to-god aliens to really go out and find something to do, so they had to entertain themselves quite a bit. She understood that. It was just that the awful racket they were making was starting to get on her nerves, and some of those noises she heard would probably make the neighbors call the cops in the next five minutes.

She walked out the back door to tell them to keep it down when she saw what they were doing. She froze and stared in utter disbelieving bewilderment. The certified genius simply could not understand what in the world her boys were doing. She cocked her head, squinting her eyes, but nope, it still didn't make an ounce of sense. Finally, she couldnt' take the insanity anymore and burst out, "_What is wrong with you three?! _Is this considered normal behaviour on Mars?!"

All three Mice just froze for a second from what they were doing before Throttle managed to wipe enough mashed potatoes off of his face so he could answer, "...do you want the honest answer to that question? Because Stoker says we're pretty tame compared to some of his old drinking buddies."

She gaped out-right at his words before she sank her head in her hands. "Mother of God. No. No, no, no. Don't tell me. _Please _don't tell me. I do _not _want to know what anyone else on Mars does with a goat, an electric buffer, and a swimming pool full of mashed potatoes."

Modo shrugged, careful to not jostle the goat that he had finally gotten into a headlock after it had gotten coated in the potatoes, "Well, really, you're supposed to use a tatakaf and mashed betogah roots, but we figured we could make do with what's available---"

"I said I don't want to know!!"

Vinnie scowled at her and let go of the buffer they had been chasing in the pool of mashed potatoes, actually putting his fists on his hips in moral outrage. "Oh, come on! This is _nowhere near _as weird as you having a mannequin of _yourself _in your _bedroom_!*** And I still wanna know why you have that thing."

She sent them a look before she blushed a bit. "I was--kind of a juvenile delinquent when I was younger." At Modo's disapproving look, she defended herself, "Hey, I wasn't an evil kid! I just played a lot of pranks that.....just happened to be Class D felonies. And that mannequin's actually come in handy a shocking number of times. Otherwise, its kept in the attic. Now, do I even want to know why you guys are doing....whatever the heck this is?"

Vincent almost answered and then glance over at Throttle. The tan mouse seemed to think about it for a minute before saying, "No, I don't think you do."

She opened her mouth to retort something back, but then thought better of it. This little stunt was clearly the result of testosterone, male stupidity, and alien customs. The first two she could deal with, but not all three. It was just better to let this one go. ".....okay. But you three are cleaning this up, got it?"

*** In the episode 'The Masked Motorcyclist' in the original series, Charley masquerades as a female mystery biker that helps the BMFM with their most recent villain. She left a mannequin of herself in her bed to fool her bros into thinking that she was home the whole time while the 'Masked Motorcyclist' was out and about. I always figured that would bring up a lot of questions. It certainly would if one of my friends had a mannequin of themselves.

Especially if they had it in their bedroom.

As for what the bikers were doing.....okay, I swear to you, I'm not making this up. You can't make up crazy stuff like this. I based this off the latest antics of my next-door neighbors. My neighbors are Rednecks (to put it politely) and they have goats, and whenever they have family gatherings at their house during the summer, they play "Catch the Buffer". You fill an above-ground swimming pool with instant mashed potatoes, (enough for about 18 centimeters deep), get a buffer hooked up with extension cords and lower it into the potatoes, and turn it on. Then you get a goat, throw it in the pool, and get your 3 man team in it too. Proceed to try and catch the buffer. Now, you must have caught the goat before you catch the buffer, or you receive a penalty of having to let the buffer and goat loose again and put blindfolds on your team. Whichever team catches both goat and buffer the fastest wins.

....believe me, I've been looking for a new house. But with it being summer now, my realtor flat out told me that there was no possible way to sell my house while a live action episode of 'Hee-Haw' is going on next door. I have to wait until fall to even attempt it.

Wish me luck.


	27. The First Shot

Thanks for all your awesome reviews, guys, you keep the inspiration coming. I know this is really more of a drabble, but I couldn't really stretch it out anymore and still be funny.

This was inspired by my baby daughter getting swine flu and nearly scaring me to pieces with a fever of 103.9 F. Believe me, my children will never miss a flu shot again.

The First Shot

Vincent gaped at her for a full ten seconds, completely incredulous that she was serious. "You actually think I'm gonna let you stick that needle where?!"

Charley glared at him. It had taken her four hours of waiting in line at the pharmacy to get these vaccines, and by god, her bros were going to get them! "Oh, quit cryin', you big baby! Which would you rather have, swine flu for a month or two seconds of pain?"

"...."

"Oh dear god, if you have to think about it that long then just skip the dang shot. But don't come crying to me when you're sucking down Robitussin with a straw."

Vinnie cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Robu-what?"

"Robitussin."

"What's that?"

"Oh you'll find out. Oh yes, you will find out!" she said, giving the Martian a glare worthy of Carbine. Throttle and Modo exchanged looks before jumping and pinning the white mouse to the ground. "What?! Hey! What are you doing?! Traitors!!" Vinnie shouted.

"Look, if this is enough to make Charley give you that look, you're getting the stupid shot!!" Throttle said firmly.

"I'm glad you two are being so mature about this," she said, pulling out two more syringes. "Because you're both next. Wait, where are you"--the sound of three motorcycles revving for all they were worth as they tore out of the Last Chance Garage like bats out of hell--"now, dammit, you three get back here!!"


	28. The First Biology Lesson

I guess you can consider this a direct follow-up to the First Shot. Dedicated to Oberon, for unwavering support and source for great ideas.

This one came from taking my children to the doctor, and wondering just what kinds of problems Charley would have had taking care of three Martian Mice. Oh, and concerning the scientific formula written in the chapter, its the chemical formula for hydrogen peroxide.

The First Biology Lesson

It had taken many incidents of trial and error, 18 allergic reactions, and 9 cases of semi-overdose, but she had finally managed to put together a medicine cabinet for her Mice. Good lord, if she'd thought shopping for food for them was bad, finding medicine that not only worked, but that she could make them take was a nightmare. Cough syrup was a horrific ordeal for normal humans, for Martians with a much more sensitive sense of taste, it was hell. "Bubblegum flavored, my left foot!!" Cough drops were considered to be from the devil. Iodine was now considered a substitute for torture to her bros. She'd rather have used alcohol or hydrogen peroxide, but those hadn't turned out so well. Martians plus alcohol, whether drank or absorbed while disinfecting, equaled property damage of some kind, without fail. And the H2O2, well....lets just say that it made Modo look like a white-spotted leppard. It had bleached out their fur to such a degree that even Vinnie refused to let her use the stuff on him.

Band-aids were a terrible thing for her bros too. With their fur sticking to the sticky bits, getting them off was more painful than the injury they covered, almost every time. And all three had point blank refused to let her shave off the fur to get it to stick better. She'd had to buy an entire crate of gauze, medical tape, and ace-wrappings to use for everyday bandages. Charley had to wheel and deal like a used car salesman to get most of the supplies she now had. Antiseptics, antibacterial medicines, antihistamines and antivenoms of different kinds (because damn if her bros weren't allergic to every form of spider venom on earth [they quickly found that out living at the Scoreboard, the frickin' spider nest capitol of Chicago]), and even four very expensive packs of Insta-Cast. That stuff was a godsend; a special type of plastic that hardened when it was exposed to air that was malleable for about 10 seconds after you opened its packaging. If you were quick enough, you could have an entire arm or leg set and cast in less than a minute.

Pain killers that worked were especially hard to find. Not only their massive size, but a ridiculously high resistance to depressants and narcotics of any kind, made it extremely difficult to find something that could help whenever the bikers managed to really hurt themselves. She'd had to raid several medical supply warehouses for things they were going to throw out, or drugs that had expired, anything they would part with for a reasonable price. (Unknown to her, in the criminal drug rings, Charley was now thought to be the biggest drug abuser in Chi-town that was still functional. No one bought 18 vials of morphine in one go, and then came back the next day saying that 'it didn't work' unless they were on some hard core stuff, according to their logic.)

Ice packs, ankle and wrist braces, and suture packs for stitches all had to be bought in bulk. Normally, most of all those things were meant to be used repeatedly, but her bros didn't really get a chance to have long recovery times. Limburger Tower got rebuilt faster and faster, giving her bros less time to recover every time. They usually ended up wearing the braces, bandages, or stitches into the next fight, and often tore them to pieces in the process.

But the scariest purchase was, without a doubt, the portable defibrillator. She dreaded the day she would have to use that, and somehow, she knew it would be used someday.

She read up on medical textbooks for biochemistry as they were dealing with a mad scientist, so it was best to cover all the bases. She checked out books from college libraries about anatomy and physiology to better understand what went where and how to put it back the right way if she had to. If she could, was what worried her more. And while she was afraid it might offend her bros if they saw them, she also looked up books on veterinary medicine, as no human anatomy books covered injuries to tails or very large mouse ears.

Or the proper way to take care of their fur, which she really worried about using human shampoo on. That stuff was _not _meant for fur, or the sometimes delicate skin underneath it. Their fur needed to be brushed too, preferably on a daily basis. Especially with Throttle's longer fur, or it could tangle up and get matted, causing skin problems underneath it. She'd bought them special bristled brushes to use, two designed for short hair and one for longer, (which the tan mouse had accepted gratefully). And once spring had turned to summer, she'd made sure that, despite their protests about the smell, they took a bath with flea and tick shampoo once a month.

Fur required a lot more maintenance than most people would think.

Of course, nothing she had could cover details about their antennae. For that, she'd gone to talk to Throttle. He was surprised by her concern, but considering that she'd had her mind entered through use of the appendages, he understood her curiosity. Tissue wise, they were a bit like their tails, using cartilage and not bone to support them, which was how they could bend like they did. He explained to her that Martian antennae were loaded with capillaries and blood vessels, and extremely sensitive nerves that had a direct connection to the frontal lobes of the brain. These external nerves were loaded with the highest amounts of copper and iron in their bodies, allowing the electrical exchange and discharge of mental bio-electrical energy. It was also the reason that the antennae glowed when in use.

These currents of bio-electric energy could translate into several different species' minds, allowing them to exchange information, ideas, even sensation and emotions, despite any sort of language barrier. Exactly like how Throttle had shared his memories with Charley. Amoung Mice, this allowed parents to share their memories and clan histories to their children when they came of age, and even sensing and reading the needs of newborn infants. If something happened to injure them, they would bleed badly, and while it was rare, it was possible for a Martian to bleed to death if their antennae were cut off.

She made sure to include special padding to the inside their helmets, and titanium armor plating on the outside after hearing that.

Long talks with Modo had taught her a few things too. Modo, on account of his learning to sew from his Mama, was considered the group's medic, but only at the most basic level. He knew some advanced first aid and enough to stitch someone up long enough to get to professional medical help, but that was it. From the few health classes in school that he could remember, he told her how Martians had carbon-boron based bones, not calcium like humans. This meant that their bones were much denser and therefore much harder to break than a humans. They had very high iron content in their blood, which helped them get more oxygen to their system faster, as Mars had slightly thinner air than Earth. It also meant that their blood could clot faster, helping to seal up injuries. An extremely high metabolism burned food and fats fast to supply the body with nutrients and fuel to repair injuries, build muscle, and increase stamina. Larger lungs, thicker heart muscle, slightly thicker blood vessels, and much denser muscles combined to make a much stronger, and much more resilliant body than a humans. Basically, it meant that they had more endurance, were at least three times stronger, were slightly harder to injure, and generally faster to heal than humans.

This was a huge relief to her, as now their chosen diet made a lot more sense. Root beer had naturally occurring sugars and fewer man-made chemicals compared to other sodas, so they were getting a lot of their sugars and quick energy that way. The hot dogs had large amounts of iron and borate to help support their bones and blood nutrients, as well as lots of fats to burn for longer lasting fuel and to help their fur grow and stay healthy. The bread buns, of course, was full of carbohydrates to burn for fuel.

But she still worried about the vitamins and minerals they would need, and had started sneaking spicy vegetable juice into the chili they loved on their hot dogs. And she'd switched out the regular bread hot dog buns with the white multi-grain kind, unknown to them. She was realistic enough to know that they probably wouldn't eat healthy food on their own, so she had to be a bit underhanded about it. Whenever they ate at her house, she'd serve regular human foods besides hot dogs. Thick steaks, lots of fried chicken, pot roast, ever ham, all for the iron and borate. She'd slip mashed cauliflower into the mashed potatoes for more trace vitamins, along with butter and a small amount of sour cream for the oil and fat to make their fur shine with health. Thank god they liked her mom's green bean casserole, where she could sneak more greens like spinach, some broccoli bits, and even turnip greens into the mix. To her surprise, they loved her mom's vegetable soup, and she'd been pouring in the vegetable juice in the beef broth for that too.

Honestly, it was getting a bit ridiculous how far she was having to go to get them to eat their vegetables.

The chances of her boys getting sick, now that had made the poor girl loose sleep. She couldn't take them to a doctor or nurse-practitioner of any kind. She wasn't able to take blood samples properly and to understand what she was seeing in a microscope required a lot more expertise than she had. She might be able to tell what something was, but wouldn't know how to treat it. That fact right there, scared her to death. Thankfully, Modo had reassured her that Martian immune systems were very resistant to disease of almost every kind. Not that they couldn't get sick, but that it would have to be something fairly strong for them to get sick in the first place, and even then, the chances were high that they could burn it out of their systems fairly quickly. When she asked if that was just for Martian diseases or universal ones, he'd gotten quiet as he'd admitted that he didn't know for sure. He was a basic field medic, not a doctor.

That had led to the flu vaccination shots. She also managed to get the full immunization set for them from the health department's free clinic. (It helped that her bros had just managed to save the clinic manager's daughter from one of Limburger's schemes to destroy the school the little girl went to while she was still in it.) Measles, mumps, rubella, hepatitis A and B, whooping cough; she even went so far as to find the older vaccine for smallpox just to be safe. That was a nightmarish six months for her bros, the time needed to space out the shots for their full effect and to teach and develop their immunities to Earth diseases, but it needed to be done.

All in all, Martian Mice needed a lot of care and some serious maitenance to keep healthy. But in the end, Charley really didn't mind. After all, they always took care of her, so how could she not do the same for them?


	29. The First Moment of Silence

The war veterans were collecting money in my neighborhood, and are solely responsible for this chapter.

The First Moment of Silence

The numbers were so great she couldn't even comprehend them.

A world, an entire planet, dying. Water sucked away, forests burned, the plains and grasslands scraped from the ground down to bare rock. The seas drained of life, even the coral dying. Not even stumps left of the jungles, forests, and woods. Barely a handful of animals ekking out a survival in barren deserts.

An entire world of people, nearly eradicated to oblivion. Three sentient species almost completely gone, their total populations combined now no greater than five hundred thousand when previously each species was hundreds of millions. Millions, no, billions had been killed.

_Billions_.

She could barely grasp that number, could hardly imagine that many nails or bolts or blades of grass in a feild, let alone people. To think of that many people, dead. _Dead_. Oceans of dead, feilds of dead, the bodies piled so high that all the survivors could do was burn them, unable to take the time to bury their dead in their honored customs for fear of being killed as well before they could run from their hunters.

She'd seen it all, there in Throttle's memories. She knew he hadn't meant her to see that, would never have shown her such a thing, but seen it she had. The bodies of old men and women who couldn't run any more that had held laser pistols in their frail, old hands in their final moments; the bodies of little, innocent children that had died in confusion, defenseless, unknowning of why they were dying. All the people that had tried to fight, or run, or had held each other for one last shred of comfort as the alien horde rained death down on them.

The horror of such a thought nearly drove Charlene to her knees. Hopes and dreams for a better future must be so hard to even conceive of in the midst of such despair and death. It was loss so great, so utter, and so very, very terrible, she didn't know how her bros still had the strength to stand. So when her bros looked up to the midnight sky, their eyes inevitably fixing on the faint glow of a red star, their Red Planet, she made sure to give them their space.

For their fallen, their lost, their grief, their world, their hopes, their pleas, their prayers that went unanswered in the dark.

For them and for her bros, she always, always held a moment of silence.


	30. The First Movie

Enough of the angst for a while, lets bring on the comedy! I will admit, our bros have some tragic pasts, and I don't think a lot of people appreciate that fact. I just want to show both sides of our beloved heroes.

I own nothing of the movies or actors mentioned below!

The First Movie

Charley shook her head in exasperation as she and her biker bros drove back home from visiting the orphanage. It had been a fun evening, as it was Visitor and Movie night, and her bros had been eagerly welcomed by the children. It had been a little girl's turn to choose the kids movie, and it had been the famous animated nature film that she picked. Thus, Bambi was now on the 'Do Not Watch Again' list. There hadn't been a dry eye in the house, herself included. Damn those rotten hunters.

It made her think about some of her friends' favorite movies. Her bros had interesting taste in film, she had to give them that. Bambi made all three 'get something in their eye', but Kill Bill 1 and 2 were 'the greatest movies ever!' And dear lord, don't even get her started on Grindhouse. She shuddered to think what would happen if they saw From Dusk til Dawn.

Everything with Stephen Segal, Sylvester Stalone, and most of the Jean Claude Van Dahm collection was a winner. And James Bomb, of course. She honestly couldn't name more than two guys who didn't love that sort of thing. But she could honestly say that the fact that her Martian brothers were afraid of Chuck Norris made her laugh til she cried. Nearly every single comic book hero film was now watched with an almost religious fevour, with Iron Man being declared their current favorite. (Last time, it was a tie between Spiderman and Wolverine, with actual fights breaking out to defend their hero's honor.)

Zombie movies of all kinds, even Shaun of the Dead, freaked them out completely. Even Army of Darkness was declared taboo. Vincent had been scared so badly that not only did he openly admit that he was afraid, but she'd found him at the Scoreboard with a bunch of sniper lasers, cans of food, and cases of bottled water while making plans for when the undead attacked. It had taken Throttle and Modo several days to calm Vinnie down to the point that he'd stop sleeping on the upstairs catwalk or roof of the garage. She'd bought him a book, the Zombie Survival Guide, to help calm him down. To her surprise, not only did he read and memorize it, it actually worked to ease his fears.***

But all the Jason films and all the Nightmare on Elm Street movies were solid gold in their book. The Alien movies were a hit, but the Predator movies hit a little too close to home after the Stalker incident. And good lord, did her bros love B-rated horror. Monster movies of all kinds, even the kind about demonic possessed cannibal sheep, the boys loved them. Godzilla was beloved from every decade, along with 1950's movies like Frankenstein, Creature from the Black Lagoon, and even the Wolfman, that was how much they loved cheesy horror.

Martial art movies were unanimously declared the greatest ever. Throttle loved to study the moves, trying to learn a few to use in his fighting style. Especailly after a few well trained fighter minions of a rather difficult villian had actually wiped the floor with them. After that, those movies were watched every night to try and learn a defense. All three had been rather ticked when Charley explained that their kind of fighting was what martial arts worked best on. Martial arts were all about using an opponent's speed, strength, and especially weight against them; in other words, it was intended for a short, not so strong guy, to win against a much bigger, stronger opponent. They still liked to watch the movies for fun, and anything with Jackie Chan was a hit. Although Vinnie's eyes had lit with a scary light on watching anything involving Drunken Fist Style fighting.....

Romance of almost all kinds was out, except for romantic comedy. Oh god, the comedies. Everything National Lampoon was celebrated with re-enactment and song, especially the earlier ones. Animal House, Revenge of the Nerds, and Caddyshack were watched three times each before some of those antics resulted in the most unusually Limburger Tower destruction yet. Using suicidal gophers to burrow under it while dragging hoses full of gasoline that would ignite after they shot flaming spears from a float pulled by their bikes, was definately a different way to go about it.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail was a huge hit with Throttle, while Vincent was more for the American Pie movies. She had to expressly forbid him from doing anything related to the American Pie movies, especially when The Naked Mile had come out. Modo was a bit more subtle, and declared that nothing beat the Tyler Perry movies. Medea was apparently a lot like some of his relatives.

And good lord, the chaos that had resulted from watching the Hangover. One matress on the roof was enough. But when Vinnie had tried to sneak in the garage with a load of chickens, three goats, and had somehow gotten his hands on a tiger, she'd quite firmly told them that if anyone tried it again, well.....

Charley would just have to show them what she'd learned from watching Mel Brooks films.

*** Um, yeah, that would be me. I am terrified, T E R R I F I E D!, of zombies. For example, when I was pregnant with my first child, less than four days from my due date, my sister and I went out to have our last girl night out without worrying about a babysitter. It was her turn to pick what we did, so we ended up at the movies. She knows I'm scared of zombie movies and has been trying, against my will I might add, to desensitize me by forcing me to watch them. She picked our last girls night out to watch Land of the Dead. At night. Like, the nine pm showing. She blocked my exit and wouldn't let me get away, as she had the keys to the car. I bolted to the car as soon as it was over and demanded to go home, crying my eyes out, I was that upset. She had to stop for gas before taking me home, and out of the ten gas stations she could have possibly reached or picked, she stopped at the one right beside a freaking cemetary.

_A **cemetary**! When I'm **scared of zombies!** At **night**! _Needless to say, I was having a panic attack as she left me alone in the car to go pay for gas. I locked the car doors, threw a blanket over my head, and procedded to have a complete crying breakdown at the gas station. I didn't manage calm down and let her back in the car for more than two hours.

The funny part is this. I told her flat out that when I was in labor, if I was too doped up on the painkillers and thought the doctor was a zombie and kicked him, I would blame her. And damned if I didn't send that poor bastard across the room, so whooped up on epidural that I thought half the nursing staff were amoung the undead. I proceded to be drugged unconscious after my baby was born, after I had already kicked three more people. I still feel bad about that to this day. And yes, I told them this story, and made sure they all went to talk to my sister about the dangers of upsetting pregnant women like that so close to their due dates.

Like I said, scared to death, (pardon the pun), of zombies. To the point that I have read the Zombie Survival Handbook and have actually made plans with other people. Granted, I'm pretty sure they were just humoring me, but it certainly helped make me feel better.


	31. The First Perfect Landing

Because Rimfire needs some love...lol.

The First Perfect Landing

As soon as she'd heard that Stoker and Rimfire were coming, she'd been preparing. She scavenged the old Thunderpipe, the ship that had brought her three bros to Earth, for spare parts and armor plating to help in the repairs. She brought a few medical kits to be sure that she could treat any injuries that might occur. This time, she'd be ready for one of Rimfire's...unique landings.

Even Throttle, Modo, and Vinnie had moved out most of their stuff to make room for the ship that would surely smash into the Scoreboard. They'd convinced the stadium's old janitor to take the week off, promising to take care of anything that came up, (and they would, whether they wanted to or not). It had taken a bit more doing to get the entire stadium booked for a week so that no one got an eyeful of alien spaceship, but the mayor helped swing it so that all the ball teams were gone for the week.

Finally, it was about that time. Vinnie had spotted them with his binoculars, and the ship was coming in fast and hot. Charley dusted off her lap, which had held a small bag of chips and a can of soda for lunch while she'd waited, and pulled out her camera. She'd promised Rimfire that she'd take a few pictures, as he wanted proof for the girls back home that he actually flew a spaceship. She winced a bit as the landing thrusters flamed on, the ship beginning to slow its descent. And then winced again. "Oh, this is not good."

The red ship was weaving and dodging across the sky like a drunk trying to hold on to the floor. It slid to the right before jerkily correcting itself to the left, nearly overshooting the stadium completely before it nearly sank down, nosediving at a hideous speed. Suddenly its reverse thrusters fired with all their might, the ship slowing more and more until it hovered right above the stadium's field of grass and touched down with a slow, almost graceful thump. The engines cut off, the thrusters died, and the ramp was lowering to the ground.

Everyone stared in shock and awe. The Stalker Ship was landed perfectly in Quigly Feild, not so much as a scratch on the paint-job. Stoker strutted down the ship's ramp, his metal tail swinging behind him in lazy arcs. "See, I still know how to teach a kid to pilot a ship," he bragged.

"Surely, its the end of the world," Vincent said quietly.

Rimfire came off the ship with much less reserve than Stoker, his walk more a stagger than a strut. "I did it! I did it! Did you fucking see that? I did it! You hear that, Carbine?"

"Oh my god," Charley breathed in wonder, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. "Way to go, Rimfire!"

"YEAH, BABY!" Rimfire screamed back.

"Its...its...I don't know if this is some kind of miracle or omen of doom," Modo murmured in shock.

"Goal!"

"You've"-

"Score!"

-"got"-

"A perfect 10!"

-"to be"-

"Booooyaaaaahhh!"

-"kidding me," Throttle said in dazed horror.

"Suck this, Scabbard!" Rimfire shouted, making a grab for his tail and making a gesture so obscene that even Charley, a girl from a different planet and culture, got it.

"Rimfire! Not in front of a lady!" Modo scolded.

Rimfire was far beyond caring as he continued yelling in Mars' general direction. "That's right, bitches! Watch my mad skills in action as you see my victory dance!"

Rimfire's victory dance lasted almost a full six minutes, and included bits of break dancing, the Cha-cha 2000, and a fully working Moonwalk that he dragged Charley into. Rimfire started to sing Micheal Jackson's song 'Bad' in a slurring voice as they danced, and Stoker just stared to laugh and laugh. A few seconds later, Vinnie broke from his dazed stare and sprinted toward the younger mouse. It took actual effort for Vinnie to pry him off of Charley as he was in the process of a full, deep-throat kiss that left her breathless and off balance. And very appreciative of Martian kissing skills. Five minutes later, after Vincent was done beating the kid up, he managed to shout out, "It was worth it! I regret nothing!"

"Yet you're still a virgin," Vin snapped.

"Yeah, but I'm working on it!"

Stoker was still laughing. When Throttle asked what's so funny, he replied that it figured that the kid would be able to land the ship perfectly only if he was drunk off his tail on Earth whiskey.

Modo had a much different view of the situation. "You let my 16 year old nephew drink and drive? You're a dead Mouse!"

Charley still ended up treating injuries, but not from the Stalker ship's landing.


	32. The First Girly Moment

Enjoy, all you Charley fans!

The First Girly Moment

Charley Davidson, for all her toughness and mechanical skills, was still a girl.

And sometimes her bros really did forget that.

But it was never meant in a bad way! Charley just didn't act like many women they knew. She was calm under fire and tougher than most every other woman they knew save for a few notable exceptions (Modo's Momma, Carbine, etc.) She was a great shot with a laser, and an incredible rider. She was, without a doubt, the greatest mechanic they'd ever known, especially considering what she had to work with, (mostly parts from their scavenged spaceship and junkyard parts). Vinnie had been known to shudder in ecstatic joy at the thought of what Charley could do if she had some _real _high tech supplies.

She never worried about her hair besides brushing it and keeping it clean and out of her face. She almost never wore make-up, never really fussed about her clothing, and she actually wore practical shoes. Real shoes, like boots and sneakers, not those silly 'pumps' or whatever they were called. As far as they knew, she only owned maybe one or two dresses, and just as many skirts.

She drove like a madman, rode like a champion, and had no problems with fighting for their cause. She was downright eager to fight beside them, not out of some misplaced sense of glory or naive expectations of battle, but out of an honest sense of justice. She was a biker through and through, born and bred to ride for three generation; her grandfather and father had both been in motorcycle cavalry units in wartime and had been in gangs in peacetime. She was a brawler and a fighter, unafraid and determined.

She was so much like a man that her bros tended to forget very easily that she wasn't one, that is, until she'd bend over to pick something up or get a drink from the fridge. Then Vinnie would almost have to let out a whistle at her curves, reminded all over again at the beautiful body she had. But that really didn't help them in remembering that she was a girl, despite the obvious indicators.

They got a firm reminder of her femininity one day after a fight with a particularly gross villain. No one had gotten out of that fracas without some kind of gunk, sludge, grime, or other un-named bodily fluid on them. Mostly due to them blowing the villain up after he had tried to eat Charley. That poor girl had almost been completely swallowed before they'd gotten her out of there, and after the fight was over, had immediately claimed dibs on the shower. No one had begrudged her that; nearly being eaten was a very traumatic thing no matter how blase you acted afterwards, and a shower would do wonders to help relax her.

They were closer to the Quigly Scoreboard, and so had made sure all the baseball players were gone before giving up the entire locker room shower for her to use. They waited down in the field, using the time to clean their poor bikes, which were also covered in goop. Modo had just finished with Lil' Hoss and had gone to get some wax when the Martains suddenly heard a terrified shriek. Knowing that only one person could be there to make that sound, they raced off to the showers to help. All three were halfway there when a wet, white-toweled blur ran right into them, knocking all three of them to the ground.

A wet, towel-clad Charlene Marie Davidson was clinging to Modo for all she was worth, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and not letting go anytime soon. "_Oh god, go kill it, somebody please go kill it, its huge and hairy and its got fangs and it tried to get me! Please, please, please, somebody go kill it, please go kill it!"_

"Wha-wha-ahh, Ch-Char-le-ley, what-"-Modo was trying and failing to talk with a mostly naked Charley clinging to him.

Throttle kept more of his head than that. "Charley, what happened, who tried to get you?"

She looked up at them and to their shock they saw tears in her eyes, "_Its huge! Big and hairy and it has these huge fangs and it jumps and I barely made it out of there!_ It was just staring at me and I tried to get out and then it jumped and then I saw that it brought friends and I-I just had to get out of there, I'm sorry I didn't take care of it but I couldn't get near it, it was too fast, and it kept jumping at me and I'm sorry, but-but-"-

Vinnie put a concerned hand on her shoulder, "What is it, babe?"

_"I'm scared!" _she cried, burying her face back into Modo's chest. He instantly began running his hands along her back to try and soothe her, talking softly to her that it would be alright and that they wouldn't let anything happen to her. She went on, "I'm sorry, but I'm scared of those things, I've always been scared of those things, and they jump and they bite and they're scary! Please, please, go kill those nasty things, please, please, please..."

"Those?" Throttle asked. "You mean more than one?"

"I-(hiccup)-I think it brought friends," she said, trying to get back her composure. Modo carefully stood and pulled her up in his arms, nodding to his bros. "I've got her, you two go take care of those things."

"Will do, bro. Don't worry, Charley-girl, we'll get 'em for you," Vinnie said confidently, pulling out his laser pistol.

Throttle nodded, "We'll be back soon," he said, getting out his own laser and powering up his Nuk-Knuks. Together, the tan and white mice walked down to the shower stalls.

Eight minutes later, they came back, an odd look on Throttle's face and Vinnie with both hands cupped into a cage-like state. "Hey, Charley-girl, about those things that scared you so much," Throttle said.

Vinnie interrupted him, "Is it brown with tan stripes and a black back?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"With eight legs?"

"Yeah," she nodded again.

Throttle shook his head and snorted in exasperation. "Oh, I don't believe this," he muttered.

Vinnie grinned gleefully as he brought out his cupped hands to show her, "Is it this?"

"_YES_!" she cried on seeing the spider he held. "_KILL IT! OH GOD, PLEASE KILL IT!"_

Throttle shook his head again as he peeled off his grungy vest, heading down to the shower. Vincent just laughed and laughed. "I can't believe you're so scared of this tiny little thing!" he crowed. "Here," he thrust it towards her, "look, its not even the size of a nickel, it can't be that scary."

"Vinnie, I'm scared of spiders for a_ good reason_!" an almost panicking Charley said as she nearly tried to climb further up Modo. "Humans are allergic to spider venom, and that spider right there, that's a brown recluse! Their venom causes something like instant gangrene where ever they bite you! If you get hit in a vein or artery, it can kill you! _Now, for the last time, KILL THE STUPID THING!"_

Vinnie's eyes were huge at that news and he instantly tried to drop the spider, only to scream like a little girl when it stuck to the back of his hand with its eight legs. He began to shake and jerk his arms and hands to try and get the insect off, smacking his hand with the other to get it down. The spider went flying down the hall from his efforts, scurrying back to the showers. Red eyes went wide at that, "Wait a minute, Throttle's still in there!" Vinnie cried and he ran down the hall to save his fearless leader. Who ended up running out of the shower too after hearing how poisonous one little spider could be.

Modo ended up loaning Charley his trench coat to cover up with so he could drive her down to the Last Chance Garage so she could clean up there. He decided to take the safer route and cleaned up there too, not willing to risk possible gangrene by spider bite. All three mice camped out at the garage a few days later as they had succeeded in getting the janitor to bug bomb the locker rooms and showers. After all that trouble for one little spider, the bros concluded that she had every right to be scared of the little things.

* * *

Dudes, this is totally how I am with spiders. I'm a second degree black belt and I am scared to peices of those tiny little things. Now, if they stay more than five feet away from me, its okay, any closer and its stomping time. Lol.


	33. The First Drive

When I thought about this, I could have slapped my forehead at the idea of it. Seriously, none of them can drive. In the newer series, they actually had to try to learn to drive a car. Emphasis on _try_. So I wondered how they took it when Charley had to drive...

The First Car Ride

"I'm so glad you guys are coming with me," Charley said as she packed a few tools into her road kit. "Illinois is so pretty this time of year and we never get to just ride and cruise for fun. You'll love the trip down to my Grandpa's."

"So, your grandpa, is he your dad's or mom's dad?" Modo asked.

"My dad's dad," she said, picking up her travel bag only for the grey mouse to take it from her to carry it himself. She rolled her eyes, but thanked him. "Anyway, he's been pretty eager to meet you all. He doesn't own a shot-gun," she said to their relief, which was shot down at her next words, "but he is the one that got Dad the rocket launchers."

"Man, I thought my family was violent," Vincent muttered to himself, thankfully below the range of human hearing. Throttle shook his head lightly and spoke to Charley, "So, about how long will it take us to get there?"

"Not long, really," she answered. "Especially with my jeep back in working order."

"You have a car?" Modo asked in surprise.

"Sure, I can't take my tow truck everywhere," she said with a shrug.

"I always wanted to ride in a car," Throttle said.

Charley blinked in surprise. "Really? You've never rode in a car before?"

Throttle glanced over at Modo with a questioning look. "Does an ambulance count?"

The grey mouse shook his head in the negative. "No, no," Modo answered. "Being driven to the hospital because you can't feel your legs does not count as being driven by a chauffeur, no matter what Stoker says."

Charley's eyes widened at that. "No, it doesn't. Well then, head around back and hop in the jeep, give your ladies the day off. You guys are in for a treat." The boys headed out to the backyard as she grabbed her purse.

"That's a jeep? This little thing?" Vinnie asked, pointing to rather small looking lump covered by a blue tarp. Charley just shook her head at him as she pulled off the protective cloth. The red and white car parked over beside her tow truck had clearly seen better days. Like back in the sixties. Rust dotted the exterior, along with numerous dents, dings, and scrapes, and the wheels' rims were chipped and dented. It looked like duct tape was all that was holding the seats together. It had no roof, just a basic frame/roll cage.

Modo looked it over with concern. "You sure we're all gonna fit in there, Charley-ma'am?"

"Yup! Its a nice, sturdy, off-road type car, you guys will fit in fine. Its my favorite vehicle next to my bike." All four of them climbed in, with Charley in the driver's seat, Modo riding shot-gun, and Throttle and Vincent in the back. "Huh. Hey, why are there handles on the roof of the frame? I've never heard of those in a car," Throttle asked.

"Those?" Charley twisted a bit to pull the seatbelt loose enough to put around her. "Oh, those are the 'oh god' handles."

All three Martians stopped at that announcement. "...what?"

"You know, the handles you hold onto so you don't fall out of the jeep while we're doing a 360 turn and the pansies in the back are always screaming 'oh god, we're gonna die!' Hmph. Act like they've never been in a car before." Throttle frowned and Modo was beginning to worry, but Vinnie looked excited. "Sounds like fun!" he said gleefully.

"Oh, it is, Vin. Okay guys, I'm now telling you what I tell everyone who gets in the jeep with me. Put your seat belts on, keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and you might want to go on ahead and pray to your personal god that this hunk of junk's brakes still work."

Throttle frowned, certain that he hadn't heard right. "Pray to your personal...hunk of junk...breaks-wait a minute!"

"Here we go!"

Charlene's grandfather's house was approximately 128.4 miles from the Last Chance Garage.

Charlene made it there in one hour and twelve minutes, despite Chicago's legendary rush hour traffic on a Friday.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Throttle screamed as she pulled a U-turn from the stop light, took the corner on two wheels, and sped off towards the highway exit ramp. At something close to 125 miles per hour.

Modo turned back to look at his leader, his voice utterly incredulous. "Did you really just scream like a six year old little girl?"

Throttle didn't care at this point. "Shut up, Modo! Charley, not so fast!" Now it wasn't that Throttle was scared of high speed, or of death-defying stunts, or even of _stupid _death-defying stunts. He was just scared when he wasn't the one in control. "Are you sure you know how to drive this thing? !" he asked as she weaved between a minivan and a Greyhound bus.

"Relax," Charley called over her shoulder from the front seat. "We'll be fine."

"Left," Vinnie said gleefully, pointing out an opening. Charley nodded curtly and swerved back into the far left lane. The problem with driving over a hundred miles per hour was that not everyone understood that seventy-five only technically qualified as speeding. She made a somewhat disgusted sound as she wove between three semi trucks and a Ferrari.

"Charley, there's no need to drive this fast," Throttle said weakly. Everyone ignored him, including Charley.

"Where the hell are all these people _going_?" she growled as she zoomed around an RV. "Seriously. That guy was barely going over eighty."

"The speed limit is _seventy,"_ Throttle pointed out. "Can't one of you talk some sense into her?" he asked the others pleadingly. He glanced over at a madly grinning Vincent and blanched, then looked over to his grey-furred bro. "Can't _you _talk some sense into her?"

"I believe she's beyond reason, Throttle," Modo said with a firm grip on the 'oh god' handles.

"Got that right," Vinnie said proudly. He grinned at Charley, "Oh sweetheart, I never knew you had something like this in you!"

"There's a lot more where that came from! And flattery just might get you some, Vinnie-babe," she said with a devilish smirk in the rear-view mirror.

Modo and Throttle shared looks of complete shock at that, while Vincent gave a gleeful war cry. "Something tells me she's like a totally different person when she drives," Modo said fearfully.

"I don't know why you're so uptight about this-aw, man! I missed the exit. Have to fix that." She shifted gears, looked in the rear-veiw mirror, and sudden the car was slammed into reverse! All three mice jerked badly and screamed for her to stop as she sped onto the road's shoulder to avoid the other cars, many drivers blowing their horns in shock. They were a good two hundred feet past the exit when she shifted gears again, never slowing down and with a mighty jerk of the jeep they were thrown back against the seats. On the extremely tight right turn for the exit ramp that they took at eighty-eight miles per hour, she suddenly shoved Modo to the side! Throttle and Vinnie lunged to try to pull him back in, but they were stopped by Charley's yell. Modo leaned so far out of the car that his ear scraped the pavement, but it worked out so they wouldnt' flip in highway traffic before she yanked him back in by his seat belt.

Throttle and even Vinnie were sitting back in shock, speechless at her driving. Now a shaking Modo looked like he was going to be very sick very soon. "Jeez, you all are a bunch of pansies," she muttered as the scenery blew by at more than 100 mph. "One hard turn, man. One! None of you would have survived any Davidson family road trips."

And that was just the first twenty minutes. The rest of the fifty-two minutes were too horrible to describe.

They made it to her grandfather's house, a huge cloud of dust settling as the jeep came to a stop after a break-screaming, twisting, spinning slide of more than 800 feet. Modo scrambled out of the car, kissing the ground in thanks and murmuring prayers of gratitude over and over to various deities in very old Martian.

"LAANND! Oh thank the sweet gods, LAND!" Throttle cried, giving the ground an affectionate hug after he'd lunged out of the car.

Charlene just rolled her eyes as she clicked off her seat-belt. "Good lord," she muttered. "You all are no fun. Bunch of frickin' pansies, every last one of you," she pouted as she started for the door to the old brick cottage, duffel bag in tow.

"Mother of Mars," Vincent breathed, unable to stop shaking as he managed to crawl out of the car. He tried to stand, but his knees were refusing to hold him up. He propped himself up against the back wheel and groped at his bandoleers for minute. Not finding anything, he glanced over at Modo and Throttle. "Anybody got a cancer-stick?"

"They're called that for a reason, bro," Modo said in disapproval.

"Why do you ask?" Thorttle managed to get out.

Vincent grinned. "I think I need a cigarette. That was better than sex!"

"If you think that, then clearly you have been sleeping with the wrong people," Charley muttered as she knocked on the door, not noticing that with her bros' larger ears, they all had heard her clearly. Modo gasped in shock before he started to chuckle and Throttle shook his head as he whispered, "Its a little scary how well she knows you."

"Shut up," the white mouse muttered, a bright red blush on his face.

The door opened and a tall older man with thick grey hair and a short beard stood, smiling warmly. "Grandpa!" she cried happily.

"Charley! My sweetheart girl, how are you?"

"Great, grandpa! Made it in less than an hour and twenty minutes from the garage to here."

"That's my girl!" the old man crowed happily. "You made some good time! Didn't match your last record though," he said with some disappointment.

"Well, if two furry someones hadn't been a bunch of giant pansies, I could have got here even sooner, but hey, no one's record's perfect," she shrugged.

"Dear gods," Modo breathed in horror as he observed the scene. "We've found someone worse than Vinnie! Damn it, we found a _female _Vinnie! Its just with a car and not a bike!"

"Who would have ever guessed that such a horror existed in the universe?" Throttle marveled.

Vinnie slowly began to smile, going to a full blown grin and nearly danced in joy. "She's miiiiiineeee..._**all mine! We shall breed a race of super speed demons and overtake the galaxy with our awesome speedy-speed! AHAHAHAHA!**_"

The tan and grey mice were silent for a long minute after the white mouse's rant. "Awesome speedy-speed? Did he really just say 'awesome speedy-speed'?" Modo asked Throttle in disturbed confusion.

Throttle just shook his head. "Whatever they're both on, I want no part of it."


	34. The First Bike

I actually know a guy who learned how to ride a motorcycle without ever learning to ride a normal bike. Considering the war on Mars was going for most of their lives, including childhood, I wondered if the same had happened to our boys...

The First Bicycle:

The ugly crunch of metal meeting dirt sounded loudly in the deserted junkyard as Vinnie tried and failed to go more than eight feet on a bike.

Charlene thought she was going to break a rib laughing from the look on his face. "BWAHAHAHAH!"

Modo shook his head in frustration and disappointment as Vinnie lay on the ground in shock at his fall. "You done yet, Charley?" the grey mouse asked.

"AHAHAHAHAH!"

Throttle stared in horror at the sight of Vincent falling off a bike. It might qualify as a sign of Armageddon. "I think that means no, Big Guy."

"Oh come on, it can't be that funny," Vinnie griped as he picked himself up from the ground. He gave a hard kick to the twisted metal remains of his last ride as he yanked off his helmet out of pure frustration.

"HAHAHAHA! The-the hell its not!" Charley clutched her sides, tears trickling down her face as she shook in uncontrollable laughter. Modo and Throttle were in the same mood as Vinnie, and had even gone so far as Modo using his bare hands to warp the bike's rusted frame into a very knotted donut. Charley couldn't stop laughing. "Oh god, that's awesome. You're serious. Oh god. Heehee-huh-HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Complete and utter piece of crap," Throttle muttered as he yanked off his helmet.

"Oh god, you have to stop, I can't breathe!" she begged. "HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Its not that big a deal!"

"N-No-N-Not-hahaha!-not that big-(gasp)-a deal? L-Let me get this straight," she tried to catch her breath and stop laughing but it was so hard! "Ahaha! You three, _**the **_Biker Mice, the most famous motorcycle riders in the galaxy, can't ride a basic ten-speed pedal bike? That's not just funny, that's hilarious!"

"Well lets see you do it then!" Vinnie snapped.

Charley took several deep breaths to calm down and walking over to her old powder blue bike and pulled on her helmet as she got on. "Sure thing, guys." She quickly pumped the pedals of her bike, gaining speed as she raced around the junkyard. She reached the homemade ramp her bros had made, easily catching more than fifteen feet of air in the massive jump. The girl landed beautifully, barely a jostle to shake her as she started pedaling again, going for another pass. This time she executed a perfect back flip in mid-air, once again landing without a hitch.

With casual ease, she slid the pedal bike to a drifting stop right in front of her bros', smiling sweetly at them. "See? Easy-peasy. Wanna give this another try, boys?"

All three mice just looked at her. "There are days that I really don't like you," Vincent muttered, as all three bikers put their helmets back on, grabbed another bike, and tried again.


	35. The First Night

How well do you think you'd sleep on a different world?

The First Night

Three Martian Mice stared out at the night sky from their new home at the Quigly Scoreboard. They were up on the catwalk, looking out over the city from their very sweet veiw.

"I know they only have one moon, but its still weird. It barely moves, man! What kind of self-respecting moon goes slower than the speed of smell? !" Deimos and Phobos, the moons of Mars, moved at a much faster speed than Luna, the moon of Earth. "And is it supposed to have a face? That's creepy, bro, I don't care what you say," Vinnie said. None of them were able to really sleep on their first night on Earth.

"How are you supposed to pick out any constellations?" Modo asked. "I figured being so close to home that _something _would look familiar, but nothing really works from this angle in the sky. I can't find the Saber-Squid or the Tharga Riders anywhere."

"Can you still find the North Mountain?" Throttle asked, not really one for astrology. But he did know that the North Mountain always pointed, well, north. At least, it did on Mars.

"Wait, I think, maybe-got it! Right over there."

"Where?"

"There," he pointed. "I wonder if that's north on this planet too."

"Hey, you guys know how long night lasts here?" Vinnie asked.

Throttle and Modo exhcanged glances, neither really sure of the answer. "Um, not as long as home, right?" Modo asked.

"I think so," Throttle replied.

"Aw, man, now we're gonna miss sleep. I'm a growing boy, I need my beauty sleep."

"You sure need something," Modo muttered as he headed over to his bed.

"Hey, a body this good lookin' needs maitenance and - what the hell is that noise? !" At Vincent's shout, the shockingly loud chirping sounds went silent. He blew a sigh of relief at the quiet, but not two seconds later, the chorus of sound started up again. "Wha-hey! I thought we had an agreement!"

"I think those might be bugs, Vin," Throttle said, glancing around with his helmet to find the insects. "Oh hey, there they are. Those are little things, too."

"We still had a non-verbal agreement," Vincent muttered. "How in the world are we supposed to sleep like this? Its, like, seventy degrees in here! I'm roasting, man!" Mars, being much farther from the Sun, was much cooler. Sixty-eight degrees Fareinhight was considered an average summer day on Mars.

"Then don't sleep with the sheet on," Throttle said, his voice edging with agitation. It had been a long day, and all the tan mouse wanted was to get some sleep.

"But its-"-

"Vinnie, shut up and go to sleep, or I'm gonna stick this metal fist somewhere you won't like."

Throttle and Vincent exchanged similar looks as both went silent and made their way to the hammock and bed Charley had got for them. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Modo could be pretty damn scary when he was sleepy.


	36. The First Trip to the Beach Part 1

To RocknRide, as promised. But this will actually end up a two shot, as I need to do a bit more research before I can complete it. I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for your awesome story 'Winter in Chi-town', and I hope you have time for another update soon.

Guys, seriously, go read that, its in the Rated M section. You can skip the one mature bit in it and still have a wonderful story.

The First Trip to the Beach (Part 1)

It was getting a little crowded, it was hot, and sand was getting _everywhere_.

You couldn't have pried those three mice away from the beach with a giant crowbar.

It was a small, private beach owned by Charley's uncle, and all her family was there for the annual Davidson Reunion. Children were everywhere, the teenagers were everywhere they shouldn't be, and the adults were relaxing as much as possible as they tended to bar-be-que pits, huge coolers of drinks, tanning, and swimming. The Mice absolutely loved it. Throttle was learning how to surf. He'd wiped out a total of 18 times, but he was having a ball trying. Although Charley rather thought the three cute 17 year old girl instructors might have had a hand in his work ethic. Or maybe it was the size of the bikinis they were wearing. Either way, the tan mouse had spent almost six straight hours in the ocean with no sign of getting out anytime soon.

Modo was in the middle of a sand-sculpting contest with four other children versus a team of her teen-aged cousins that was making a sculpture of Cinderella's Castle. Modo and the kids were making the entire city of Brimstone, with some imaginative interpretation from the kids, of course.

And as for Vinnie? Three words; bikini volleyball tournament.

Although, he wasn't enjoying it quite as much as he thought he would. The way the girls' fathers kept holding their rifles and shotguns was more than a little worrying.

Charley's family had invited the three down to Florida for the Davidson Family Reunion, (and Key West's bike week but that was more for the adults), and had them stay at the house of a relative to keep them close by. Everyone in the family had wanted to meet the three men-er, aliens-that were living with Charley. Several of her male cousins and uncles had already cornered various Mice and had told them in no uncertain words that if any harm came to their lady relative, no one would ever find their bodies. All three Mice had gulped and nodded; the sheer number of males that saw Charley's safety as a high personal priority had surprised them.

Although, getting there hadn't been easy.

_Flashback_

It was a typical day at the LCG. Charley had just started shop for the day and was checking the mail as her three biker bros rolled into the garage. They headed for the kitchen to grab some food when a sudden scream made them race to the mechanic's side. "What? What is it?"

"Oh my god!" Charley screamed ecstatically, almost dancing in excitement as she waved a letter in the air. "Guys, this is awesome! You-You'll never believe this! My dad just got the go-ahead to rent Uncle Mike's house down in Key West and has invited us - all of us! - down for the family reunion! And for - Oh my god," she said, her voice going suddenly weaker. "I think I need to sit."

Modo grabbed a chair in time for the stunned mechanic to sit down. "What?"

"What's going on?" Throttle asked.

Charley shook her head to clear it, and pointed over to a closet by the stairway. "Vinnie, could you look in there on the top shelf and bring the big album here?" She handed the letter to Throttle as Vinnie brought over the large photo album. Carefully, she opened the book as Throttle glanced over the letter. The tan mouse looked at the girl oddly. "Bike Week? What's Bike Week?"

Charley pointed to the pictures on the page and said with a grin, "This is Bike Week." She handed the book to Modo to look over with Vinnie. "Picture it boys. Sunny skies over a white sand beach, girls in bikinis as far as the eye can see"-

"Bikinis?" Vinnie said in awe, dodging Modo's smack to his head.

"Bikinis, Vin, with those little tiny shorts that go all the way up! Kids playing in the sand, surfers on the ocean-"-

"The ocean?" Throttle asked. "Its real?"

"Of course its real!" she said in surprise. "You mean you've never seen - oh yeah," she remembered. "Desert planet. Right."

"So all the blue stuff we saw on this planet before we crashed wasn't just some kind of blue plant? It - It really was water?" Modo said in shock.

"Yeah, its water," Charley said with a smile. "Salt water, but its the biggest source of rain and snow on Earth. The water evaporates, leaves the salt, and rains all over the world."

"Wow," Vincent said softly in awe.

"Anyway!" she went on, "Okay, blue ocean, white beaches, girls in bikinis, and then, oh then guys, there's the Chrome Mile."

"Ch-Chrome Mile?" Modo asked, just the name making visions of bikes appear in his head.

She smiled. "Imagine it, boys; A solid mile of parked motorcycles, all up and down the boardwalk. Every kind, from antiques to super-chargers, custom-built to just off the assembly line. Bikers come from every corner of this 4000 square mile country! North, East, West, and South, they all come for a solid week of celebrating everything that is being a biker! Bars for miles around, races, stunt shows, build-offs, drag-racing, motor-cross, everything's there," she said dreamily. "And Dad's invited all of us to stay for the week at a house right on the beach!"

Both grey and white mice turned with pleading eyes to Throttle. "Can we go?"

"But we have to"-

"We'll take out the Tower right before we go!" Vinnie said eagerly. "Promise!"

"Don't we have to take supplies to"-

"I'll bring the delivery early," Modo said. "The orphans have been wanting me to visit soon anyway!"

Throttle looked a bit at a loss. "Look, bros, I want to go too, but we gotta think about this. Charley, does anyone else in your family know about us besides your dad, mom, and grandfather?"

She suddenly looked a bit nervous. "Define 'anyone else'."

"Anyone else means anyone else," Throttle said. She still didn't say a word. All three looked at her. "Charley? They _all _know?"

"Look, nobody in my family will ever tell on you," she said defensively. "Your secret's safe with us. Besides, you guys watch out for me. Nobody in the family would deny you help for that alone, not to mention the fact that you're helping to defend the planet from alien invasion. Despite what you might think, they like you guys."

Throttle arched an eyebrow. "They don't even know us."

"That's kind of what this week is about. They want to meet and get to know you guys. And confirm that Dad hasn't gone crazy," she said ruefully. "And Mom insists that you come for dinner at the very least."

"Your mom?" Modo asked.

"Oh yeah. Says she wants to meet 'those Martian fellas' and be sure you're treating me right," she said with a laugh. "Don't worry about her. She means well, and she'll probably cook enough food to have you swimming in bar-be-que sauce. Oh, and she'll check your teeth."

"What? Why?"

Charley grinned. "Mom's a dentist."

"D..dentist?" Vinnie said in horror.

Charley laughed out loud. "Oh c'mon guys! This is a chance to go to the beach, swim, chase almost naked girls to your little heart's content"-

"I'm going whether you let me or not!" Vinnie shouted.

-"eat tons of food, party all night, and swap stories with bikers from all over the country. Please, Throttle? Come and have some fun?"

Throttle just shook his head. "Well, I can't really remember the last time we ever had a vacation"-

"YES!" Charley shouted happily. "C'mon boys, get packing! We're going on pilgrimage, to the Holy Land of Bikers! Key West, here we come!"

_End Flashback_

And that was just to get them packed and on the road. 18 hours of driving was involved, which included being chased by a mob of fangirls from Tennesse that had remembered them from the time they'd showed up in downtown Chicago naked but for their helmets* (which resulted in them having to be escorted by police out of the state for their own protection). Not to mention seven life-time bans from various truck-stops for reasons that went from trying to drink straight out of three different flavors of slushy fountains at once, causing the casing to implode (Vincent); using a laser pistol to heat up the hotdog rollers to make them cook faster, causing it to explode (Modo); locking the other two in the bathroom after setting off those cheap cologne dispensers to do all the scents at once, causing the dispenser to explode (Throttle); and setting off the airhorns of several different semi-trucks that didn't belong to them to make the others hurry up (Charley). No explosions had been involved with that, to their surprise.

The family's reaction to the Martians had been...unique, to say the least.

There had been disbelief, shock, a bit of fear (since that meant that the other aliens actually were here in the process of invading the Earth), acceptance, and then joy at meeting new friends. Charley's mother, Diana, had met them with a traditional greeting from her own family from France and had kissed both the cheeks for each of them. She also mentioned that she like to see all three of them in her office for a dental check-up before they left for Chicago, and although she said it in a polite and kind tone, the look on her face meant that it was an order. All three had nodded nervously, remembering just how scary Charlene was when angry, and how her father said she got it from her mother.

Everyone else had shouted their greetings, immediately embracing the three as friends and fellow bikers. Nearly every single member of Charley's family (save for those too young to reach the pedals) rode a bike. Modo had been heard to comment on how much it felt like home. All of them would be participating in the festivities later in the week, and were eagerly looking forward to it.

But for now, there was sun, sand, and surfing!

...and waiting on the three giant pigs being roasted in a huge sand pit for dinner that night.

*please see the First Headache for more details.

The second part will take a bit to get out, I'm afraid. I do have some other chapters already prepared, so I'll post those in the meantime. Please stay tuned to 'The First' for the second half of 'The First Trip to the Beach.'


	37. The First Banana

A friend suggested this a while back, but I just now figured out how I wanted to spin it. Those poor guys. For Noroi.

And dudes, guess what! I'm so excited, because the one, the only, GirlyGeek has posted a new story! Its in the Rated M section, called 'Earth: The final battlefeild.' We're three chapters in, with drama, romance, angst, and with some comedy thrown in the mix for a new epic that sure to please. Go check it out, you'll love it!

The first banana:

It was mornings like these that made you feel like all the chaos and insanity they dealt with was worth it. The sun was shining, it was the perfect temperature outside, grean things growing and sprouting everywhere, birds singing. What made it even better was good company; being surrounded by your best friends, joking and laughing as they ate breakfast together.

Modo had just finished his turn on dish-duty after a large breakfast at Charley's, and as he turned to hang up the dish towel, he stopped in surprise. Charley had cooked a large spread for her boys, and just now finally got a chance to sit and eat. She decided on a lighter version of breakfast to tide her over until lunch, since she could just snack on leftovers in the fridge til then. She'd grabbed a piece of fruit off the shelf, carefully taking off the peel. Modo stared in confusion for a moment, and then winced horribly at her actions.

Right at that particular moment, Throttle had glanced up from working on his bike in the garage bay and caught Modo's look. Before he could ask what was wrong, Modo motioned with his flesh hand, down by his waist and out of Charley's sight. He made a handsign that the tan mouse recognized from the war, a few signals that meant 'no danger, be silent, observing.' Throttle blinked in surprise at that, and watched the grey mouse for more info. The confusion on Modo's face as he looked at Charley shifted to something like fascination, but was always followed by that awful wince mere seconds later, and repeated for several intervals. Throttle tapped Vinnie's shoulder, using the same kind of signs to tell him to look at Modo. Seeing the strange looks on his face, they couldn't take the curiosity, and quietly walked over to see what the matter was, being careful to stay out of Charley's sight.

Modo's eyes never left the girl sitting at the end of the table, who was obliviously peeling and eating a banana. The expressions of fascination and horror repeated on their faces too until she had finished eating, casually tossing the peel in the trash and walking upstairs to change for work. Modo waited until she was gone and then exchanged looks with his bros. "That was wrong in ways I can't even describe."

"No kidding. I don't know whether to be turned on or worried that she's practicing to be a cannibal," Vincent said with a grimace.

"Did you have to go there, Vincent?" Throttle growled.

Charley grinned from the top of the stairs where she'd heard their conversation, struggling to hold in a laugh. "Mission accomplished."


	38. The First Upgrade

Charley's a mechanic, but she builds just about everything for them. So I figured she must know metal-working too. And if you had the opportunity and the know-how to upgrade and fix mechanical things, and happened to love your job, wouldn't you do something like this?

...er, if a huge amount of exposure to utter insanity occurred on a daily basis, that is.

This takes place a bit after the episode 'Return to Mars', while the gang is still on the base, right before they head back to Earth. A bit AU, I think, in that Stoker has already been rescued by Rimfire and is on base.

The First Upgrade

"Please?" A young woman's voice moaned throughout the Martian base.

"No!" bellowed out a deep, menacing, and very tired voice.

"Pretty please?"

"For the hundredth time no!"

"Can I touch it? Just a little?"

"What part of no don't you understand?"

"But its sooooo big!"

That got some ears perked up all over the Mess Hall.

"What is wrong with you, girl?"

"But I can make it sooo much longer and stronger…" The young woman moaned in a seductive voice, gaining more attention from the surrounding Mice that had been eating when the human woman walked in.

"Damn it girl! The kids are staring at us!" The male yelled in a somewhat panicking tone.

"I can't help it," she moaned. "Every time I look at it, I get weak in the knees. It's just so huge and sooo shiny…"

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to be arrested for something about this?" The Martian groaned in frustration.

"I just wanna take it home and **smash **it with a hammer…" The girl chuckled with a sadistic tone, causing every male near her to run away from her frantically.

"Like hell you will!" Stoker shouted/screamed as he ran through the Mess Hall with Charley right behind him with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"Give me that gorgeous tail, old man!" The girl shouted as she held a hammer in one hand and a laser in the other.

"Who are you calling old man? !" Stoker yelled back. "For your information, I'm 36!"

"Like anyone can tell with that awful dye job on your fur anyways, now give me that sexy piece of metal on your back!" Charlene shouted.

"NEVAAAAR!" Stoker exclaimed as the pair dashed past the rest of the Biker Mice from Mars.

Vinnie could not help himself, "Hahaha - y-you have to be kidding me - BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH"-

"For the love of Mars, Vincent, take a breath before you pass out on the floor," Carbine scolded.

-"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-(choke, gasp)-"

"Think Stoker's gonna be okay?" Modo asked over Vincent's desperate gasps for air. The white mouse was hunched over, silently shaking and still laughing himself into asphyxia.

"Oh, I think Stoker will be just fine. If she remembers to give him anesthesia," Throttle replied. He glanced over to where Vinnie was starting to turn blue. "This is just sad. The one time it's _not _Vinnie being chased by a woman packing weapons, and he keels over from _laughter_. Seriously, Vin, not cool."

Vincent Van Wham had just enough consciousness left in him to give Throttle the finger before he passed out from laughing too hard.

* * *

I have a challenge for you all! In the next chapter of 'The First', I will be listing some quotes and ideas that came to me, but never really got a story going for them. Take any of them you want and post your own edition of a 'First' chapter! I hope we get lots of entries, and help spread the love of our best bros, the BMFM.


	39. The First Phone Call

Dudes! I'm so excited! The greatest writer of BMFM fics, the author of the best on-going series on this site (IMHO), the one and only KLCtheBookworm, has posted another story! You guys have to go read her work, its so amazing!

Ahem. Sorry. Just very happy and excited that this story is here, I've been waiting on something from her for ages.

Now, onto the story. The challenge pieces are after this small one-shot.

The First Phone Call

The phone rang at the Last Chance Garage. On hearing it, Charley rolled out from under a pick-up truck and jogged quickly to the office to answer it. She grabbed the phone and said politely, "Last Chance Garage, this is Charley, how can I help you?"

A rather irritated Throttle answered. "Hey, Charley. Can you tell me why you installed child-proof locks, of all things, on the fuse box? I know stuff doesn't last that long around us, but really, none of us is dumb enough to-

Suddenly there was a huge sound of **_BZZZT, BZZZT-_**

There was the faint sound of Vinnie's voice saying the scariest words in history-"Uh-oh."

BOOOOOOM!

"Holy Mars, Vinnie, you okay?" Modo called, and she could hear the big mouse scramble to go find the younger Martian. A few seconds later, and Modo called out, "He's okay! Just singed!"

"Owww!"

"And being a giant wuss about it!"

"Hey!"

"...never mind," Throttle said in embarrassed despair.

"Do you need me to bring another first aid kit?" she asked.

There was a very small, sheepish, "Yes, please," before he hung up the phone.

* * *

Now for the challenge. I've got several quotes, scenes, and ideas here that I really haven't figured out for a proper one-shot, or even a full story. I would love to see what everyone else can do with them. Take any you want and post something for BMFM. Please let me know if you do so I can be sure to check it out. Each scene and quote written here should be separated by a line, but you all know how ff dot net is about this stuff, so please bear with me.

* * *

Charlene felt her eyebrow twitch. "Oh, the sheer amount of Wooki jokes I could make right now...be grateful I'm such a nice person."

* * *

"The sad part about this whole deal with them is that my life has become the equivalent of having an acid trip at Comic Con," Charlene said morosely.

* * *

"I didn't know any better and was confused! I was in a phase!" Vincent yelled in denial.

"Yeah, for about 17 years…" chuckled Stoker under his breath.

"YOU CAN PROVE NOTHING! I BURNED ALL THE EVIDENCE!" The white mouse ranted hysterically.

* * *

"For the last time Vinnie, I'm sorry I accidently blew you up! Seriously! I had no idea you were there!" Charley apologized in a frustrated tone.

"You just wanted an excuse to blow me up along with the Plutarkians," he growled.

"… yep. I'm indiscriminate. I'm like an old testament god. Everyone suffers in my eyes," she bit out.

* * *

"Maniacal laughter isn't just for announcing diabolical plans you know. It's a wonderful stress reliever. Hell, half the evil villains I know of do it subconsciously in order to get rid of all the anxiety in their bodies. The other half… well they are in fact that crazy."

Charley deadpanned, "I'll keep that in mind the next time I come across someone like that."

"Please do."

* * *

Charley was twitching badly. _OH MY GOD, I THOUGHT THROTTLE WAS __**KIDDING **__WHEN HE SAID HE KNEW HOW TO GIVE PEOPLE TEMPORARY MEMORY LOSS!_

* * *

"But that...that shouldn't have...how did...Throttle?"

The tan mouse laughed and patted Charley on the back. "Darlin', welcome to the wonderful world of dumb luck, where fantastically great things occasionally work in your favor for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Modo! We have another member!"

"Yes!" Modo gave her a thumbs up with sparkling teeth. "Welcome my friend!"

* * *

She would never say it out loud, but prolonged exposure to the Biker Mice from Mars had made her almost used to the mentally unstable, and she could now somewhat speak their language.

* * *

"This calls for a special blend of psycology and extreme violence," Charley said. Carbine nodded. "And scissors. Don't forget the scissors."

* * *

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to be a cocky jackass, especially if it pisses off deities that control the luck in the universe…

"I. Regret. Nothing," Vinnie mumbled, cradling his precious cargo.

Throttle was seriously starting to wonder if one of the gods they had surely pissed off during one of their earlier interplanetary exploits put a curse on Vincent that prompts people nearby to hit him in the nads. If it was true… then it would answer so many questions of his…

* * *

"These guys may be as strong as they come, but they're still as smart and sophisticated as a herd of rabid donkeys," Stoker laughed.

* * *

"Charley-girl, we'd do anything for ya, but we've gotta say, you are not allowed to do that thing with the lollipop within any male's sight ever again."

* * *

"So help me, god, if I find out any of you is responsible for this, someone is going to get up close and personal with a Brazillian wax!"

* * *

_**"DEMON CHICKEN OF DOOOOOOM!" **_Charley just stared at the latest monster attacking the city. She then turned to her bros. "Its your turn to get it."

* * *

"Who are you calling brat?" Vinnie growled.

"You." Stoker replied carelessly, just before he had to duck out of the way before Vinnie used his new laser rifle to try to shoot him. While to anyone else the scene would seem a bit brutal and barbaric, the current watchers knew that the two were just goofing around with each other. They were both perfectly aware of what the other could do to a certain degree, and thus knew where to draw the line.

Attempted homicide did not cross said line.

* * *

Vinnie giggled. "Squirrels go boom boom."

* * *

"It's amazing what random chaos and confusing actions can accomplish when used correctly," Throttle said happily.

* * *

"I don't know who told you otherwise, but I assure you boys, they lied to you. _That _most certainly does _not _go there..."

* * *

Modo eyed the scene, wincing a bit. "Ooh, he'll need to see a doctor to get that out. Anyone know what the guy said to make Miss Charley so angry?"

* * *

"I'm not talking about just _**sex**_! I'm talking about sex so good that you _both _walk with a limp for a week! I'm talking about sex so good you have to look down and applaud your naughty bits because the perfomance was just that amazing! _The kind of kinky alien sex that geeks pray for their entire lives! __**That **_kind of sex!"

"...remind me again, what's the family policy on threesomes?"

* * *

"We need a mud pit! Somebody find us a mud pit!"

* * *

She was dressed in a pink, poofy ballroom gown; full length with taffeta ruffles and those giant puff-ball shoulders that make it impossible to turn your head. Neon pink high heel shoes, full length pink satin gloves, a pink jeweled tiara on her head and pink diamonds glittered on necklaces, bracelets, and rings. She was also giving them the Eye of Death. "If any of you ever so much as breath a word of this, I will kill you all."

* * *

No matter how young or old a male is, they will always be fascinated and easily distracted with the potential ability to blow things up, especially if the resulting crater is over 20 meters wide…

* * *

Jets of sticky, brown fluid arced off the roof, foam spraying everywhere. A very soaked Charley, Modo, and Throttle glared up at the roof of the garage. A very sheepish Vincent stood near the edge with a now empty two-liter of diet cola and a piece missing from a pack of Mentos. "Hehe. Sorry."

Throttle's eyebrow twitched as Modo's arm cannon began to charge. Charley, however, just sighed. "See? This is why I don't let you three watch Mythbusters anymore."

* * *

Before Vinnie could open his mouth, Charley interrupted with, "Does this idea require a crowbar, a helicopter, 2 miles of wire cable, and half a pound of margarine?"

He blinked in surprise. "Yes."

"Ah. Good then. Carry on."

Throttle and Modo stared in dawning horror. "Oh sweet gods, he's corrupted her."


	40. The First Trip to the Park

One of the first entries in my BMFM Quote Challenge, by none other than the talented griff-chan! Many thanks and kudos to you, my friend, and may we see even more of your great work to come.

The First Trip to the Park by griff-chan

"So, let me get this straight," Charley said, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and stave off the oncoming headache. "You were walking by."

"Right," Throttle said.

"You saw something in the trees and thought it was some kind of motion-detecting bomb-thingy that the Plutarkians have used before on Mars."

"That's right, Charley-ma'am," Modo agreed.

"So you went to investigate and saw what you thought was a rat."

"Yup," Vinnie said. "Rat with a fluffy tail."

"So Vinnie climbed the tree to get a closer look. And saw a bunch of these rats with fluffy tails. Vinnie was surprised and fell out of the tree."

"Right onto me," Throttle grumbled, rubbing his still aching shoulders.

"So in a fit of panic/rage, Vinnie sent one of his flares into the tree, lit it on fire, and exploded some squirrels in front of a family and a park ranger."

"Yup," Modo said. "That sounds about right, Charley ma'am."

Vinnie giggled. "Squirrels go boom-boom."

Charley groaned and rubbed vigorously at her temples: there was no stopping this headache now. "And now you're all banned from the park."

"Yup," Throttle said.

Charley sighed and, instead of saying anything more, just went back into the garage and back to bed. This was not the best way to start her morning.


	41. The First Album

This is the third entry into my BMFM Quote Challenge. This is the work of the great Kashito91, and a very fine piece it is! For all those that love Queen, fans, rejoice!

Disclaimer; No one owns anything, not the songs, not the singing, and sadly, not the mice...although, if Kashito is holding out on me, we might have to have words about time-sharing ownership on Throttle...

The First Album

They were bored. The poor Biker Mice had had enough of lazing around the Scoreboard, so they'd decided to pay Charley a visit... And by "visit", they meant "stay for a week". The mice had brought Limburger Tower down twice within three days, had destroyed a fold-up table while playing Chess and broke into the bathroom when Charley was taking a bubble-bath! After banishing the trio out with some very fast-flying glass ornaments, the trio had retreated downstairs, where a battle for the TV remote began between Throttle and Modo. Meanwhile, Vinnie was poking through Charley's cupboards. Throttle spied the white mouse and frowned.

"Vinnie, get out of Charley-girl's cupboard. She's got personal things in th-" Throttle got cut off after seeing an odd album cover.

"What have you got there, Bro?" Modo asked, the TV having nothing on.

"I dunno, bros," said the white-furred mouse, as he gazed at the album cover. "Looks like a CD, but much larger..."

Throttle carefully picked it up, then flipped it over. "I think I know what this is... this is a record... they used these before CDs." The tan mouse's train of thought trailed off as he carefully slid out the disc.

It was about an millimetre thick with tiny grooves spiralling towards the middle. A large label, about three inches wide, announced the artist as... "Queen, huh?" Throttle mused. "What kind of a band calls themselves Queen?" The three mice were so deep in thought, they hadn't heard Charley come out of the bathroom. "A kick-ass band that wrote some of the greatest songs today, and I wish you furballs would stop looking through my cupboards." Two out of three mice blushed, but Modo did so brighter then Throttle.

"If they're so great, how come we, the three studliest bikers in the universe, haven't heard of them?" Vinnie pouted mockingly.

"Maybe they couldn't hear it over your constant ego boosting, Vincent," Charley replied. This little comment made everyone chuckle.

"Hey, Charley, mind if we give it a whirl?" Throttle asked, spinning the record on his index finger.

At this, Charley chuckled, shaking her head. "Sure, it's been a while since I had a night at the opera." All three mice looked at her with a very confused look, before Modo spied the album's title on the cover. "Ah, ok... Bros, the album's called 'A Night at the Opera'."

At this, Vinnie just looked confused. "Why would they give it a fruity title like that?"

Throttle sighed, rubbing his temples. "Vince, shut up, will you?"

Carefully putting the album on the record player, Throttle observed Charley's music system. About 20 years old, the system had soldiered on through the 70's and 80's, giving brilliant service the whole time. Instead of a laser, it used a diamond tipped needle, but the rest worked the same. As the needle lowered, Throttle noticed Charley had curled up on the couch next to Modo, so he decided to do the same. Just as Vinnie was about to protest, the first notes of the first track rang out, so he shut up. The first few tracks seemed to run together, as the Mice tried to analyze the song's meaning.

The first seemed to be a hate letter, the second seemed to be a throwback to some early music. When the third track came along, Charley sniffled a bit. She had owned a 1968 Ferrari Daytona at one stage of her life, and it had killed her to get rid of it. Every time she heard that song, she had a little cry. '_I'm in Love with My Car' _rang true to her, as she'd felt that much passion for it. From her 17th birthday, to her 26th, she'd polished it lovingly, like Modo did with Li'l Hoss frequently. She'd make sure that nothing, no matter how small, had happened to it; and her care had paid off. She'd never once had a crash. Modo gently wiped her eyes with a tender thumb, and she nuzzled into his fur.

Throttle just quietly watched the admittedly cute scene in front of him as the next track started. 10 minutes later, he remembered that, like a CD, you could only fit a certain number of songs; before, in this case, you had to flip it over. After flipping it over, he had a look at the cover. The 70's, as he remembered, was the era of long hair, glitter and brilliant music, and this album was no exception.

The tracks he'd heard so far were extremely complex and very entertaining. The guys on the record jacket pictures all had long hair. The absence of glitter was only minor, but nonetheless welcome.

The first song on the second side was dark and stormy, an apocalyptic prophecy, riddled with echo effects and multi-tracking. An interesting departure was the mass multi-tracking of vocals in the middle, taking away the dark and depressing tone, at least for a little while.

Next came a ballad, that made all three mice's ears twitch with disgust, at least slightly. Modo, who was more interested in such tunes, frowned at his agitated bros, to make them sit down and shut up.

Listening through it, Throttle came to the conclusion that it was dedicated to a very close and tender friend. Later researching discovered that it was dedicated to the lead singer's former lover, so then it all became clear. Next came another 20's style number, which caused a giggle because of how absurd it sounded. Next was the one song all three mice knew, and considered holy: '_Bohemian Rhapsody'_. All three mice's ears swivelled to the speakers, to soak up every note. The moment Vinnie opened his mouth, though, Throttle clamped it shut, and made sure it stayed shut with one of his bandanas. He knew that if Vinnie ruined this for Charley, she'd get pissed, but what Throttle didn't know, was that Vinnie had figured out that only the ballad had passed.

"You gonna sing, Vinnie?" Throttle whispered as Charley snuggled into Modo's arms in the first guitar solo. The white mouse shook his head slightly, then as Throttle undid it, the guitar cut out, leaving a quick piano harmony. Throttle flinched, then prayed, 'Please, Charley, don't kill me.' Then, it started. "_I see a little silhouette of a man..." _Of course, Vinnie joined in, leaping away from the now-enraged Charley as she burst out of Modo's arms. Modo, wisely, didn't try stopping her as she careened around her living room, desperately trying to catch the white furred hurricane as he did the worst impression of Freddie Mercury in the universe.

She came close many times over the famed opera section, and, just as the first 'for me' rang out, Charley aimed, then smash-kicked Vinnie straight in the privates. Throttle was seriously starting to wonder if one of the gods they had surely pissed off during one of their earlier interplanetary exploits put a curse on Vincent that prompts people nearby to hit him in the nads. If it was true, then it would answer so many questions of his.

Vinnie doubled over, then let out a dead perfect B flat... the same as the highest one on the song! As Throttle and Modo began to rock out, Vinnie collapsed in colossal pain, and stayed there, on the floor, as the song ended. As the last song kicked in, Charley stood up, stared straight at the record player; the record's cover resting against a speaker, and saluted. She saluted a masterpiece, a masterful band, and an fallen legend: Freddie Mercury. As the record ended, Throttle chuckled softly. "Vinnie, you can't deny it, you had that coming." All he got in reply was a soft whimper, as he heard Charley say from upstairs, "God save the Queen."

* * *

If you have never listened to 'Bohemian Rhapsody', seek thee out Youtube. IMMEDIATELY. Pure gold. Seriously, you cannot count yourself a true fan of rock and roll without at least hearing that song. And for those who think, 'hey, that sounds a bit familiar', you might be thinking of the famous car ride in the first 'Wayne's World' movie.


	42. The First Alternate Universe

Sorry it took so long to get this up, we had serious computer issues. The next entry in the BMFM Quote Challenge! Yay!

By Oberoniss

The First Alternate Universe

Charley leaned back in her sunning chair, counting the individual tiny pieces of sand in her left hand. It helped take her mind off the latest bit of insanity that had occurred. During the newest Limburger scheme, she had been trying to jury rig the Tower's transporter to suck the villain back through to Black Rock Asteroid, and in a fit of villainous rage, Karbunkle had thrown her in during a massive energy fluctuation. She'd arrived back in the transporter booth, to her shock, of Benjamina Karbunkle, a female mad scientist in the service of the Sumertians, another alien race that wanted to take over the world.

This wasn't her dimension. Oh no, that would be far too ordinary. She'd landed in an alternate universe, where the Biker Mice from Mars were girls, Karbunkle was a girl, and the Charlie Davidson of the Last Chance Garage was a man. When the lady Martians had rescued her, the poor girl mechanic had nearly had a mental break-down. They'd gladly taken her in, and had taken the mechanic to their Charlie to stay with. The two had immediately compared notes on the Martian motorcycles, and had actually had fun learning from each other's different styles of design and building.

Bikes in both worlds were about to get major upgrades.

Something else that had worked out happily was that Charlene Davidson was finally getting some girl-time. Charlie complained that he was a lone drop of testosterone in a sea of estrogen. Charlene was just happy to have other girls to talk to, at long last.

Three years without another girl to gossip with was surely the fast track to a diagnosable psychological disorder.

"See, I told you that pina coladas are good when they're made right," a strong alto voice said.

The brunette mechanic looked over to see a white-furred female Martian, slim and graceful, and clad in a red bikini, her metal mask glinting in the sunlight. "Okay, okay, Victoria. You're right. But I think this universe's pina coladas just taste different, that's all."

"Geez, woman, you are stubborn." Victoria flopped down on the sand, squinting as she peered out at Lake Canada. It was a balmy 84 degrees, with bright sunshine and barely a cloud in the sky. Perfect tanning and sunning weather. "So, how do ya like it here?"

"It's awesome. This summer is giving me a break I really needed." She'd found out, via threatening Miss Karbunkle, that apparently the time difference was one minute in her world equaled a day in this world. She could be gone for years and not even miss a week of work back home. The lady mechanic had determined to take a much needed vacation from her hectic life, and be back before her boys could really start to worry about her.

An insane amount of blackmail on the lady Karbunkle had insured her a ticket home whenever she wanted.

Charley pushed her sunglasses up onto her head. "I do kind of miss the bros back home though..."

"What are they like, anyways?" another voice, low and rich, asked. The tan-furred lady Mouse was a few inches shorter than Throttle, with an average build and long, straight tan hair that went down her back. She wore a blue halter-top style two-piece, and tossed her beach towel out on the ground to start sunning.

"Oh- hi, Trey. Well, they're kind of like you girls. Except they're more muscular."

"More than Memphis?" Victoria asked, her eyes widening.

"Waaaay more than Memphis," Charley assured her.

"Impossible," the tan-furred Trey declared, staring over her blue-rimmed glasses.

"Oh, no. In fact, they're all more muscular than Memphis."

"Watch your words there, child," the aforementioned Martian said, sitting down in the lawn chair next to Trey. She was easily six feet and three inches tall, with long black hair that fell in thick curls to her shoulders. The metal arm looked incredibly boxy and awkward compared to her more graceful frame. She was the most modest of her group with a purple one-piece, but the poor suit was straining to contain the lady's...generous top assets.

"What? It's not impossible." Charley took another sip of her pina colada.

"So what else are they like?" Trey asked curiously.

Charley wondered exactly how to describe her bros. "Chivalrous.. energetic.."

"Ooh, energetic," Victoria interrupted, beat-boxing playfully the infamous tune of 'bow-wow, chika bow-wow, chika bow-wow'. Charley batted at her absently.

"Oh, and Vinnie- that'd be you, Vicky- he has one of the biggest egos I've ever seen. I mean, there are bigger egos out there, but they're hard to find."

Trey and Memphis burst into laughter at Victoria's spiteful look. She huffed and looked away, her chin raised indignantly.

"That sounds familiar," Memphis said, wiping away tears of amusement with her metal hand.

"Shut up," Victoria growled.

Charley grinned in amusement, and then sighed. "Yeah. He means well, but sometimes... They're a handful, that's for sure. Sometimes I feel a little useless."

"Hey, so does Charlie," Trey remarked. "But he always tells us so we know to bring him along next time we're battling the Sumetrians."

"The sad part about this whole deal with them is that my life has become the equivalent of having an acid trip at Comic Con," Charlene said morosely.

"From the stories you've told us? More like a E party in a brewry," Memphis mumbled through her glass of margarita.

If you all don't know what the tune means, ask in a review and I'll tell you what its about!

Thanks again, Oberoniss!


	43. The First Bout of Anger Management

Hey! This one's from me, I caught the episodes for 'Back to Mars' on youtube and had to write this. And dear RocknRide, I haven't forgot the other half of your story. (Darn writer's block) Please forgive it being so tardy.

The First Bout of Anger Management

It was three days after they had arrived back on Earth. Three days after that disastrous trip to Mars to try and have Limburger tried for war crimes, only for the Biker Mice to be charged with treason, sabotage, spying for the enemy, and aiding and abetting the enemy. Not exactly the welcome the boys had been expecting. Thankfully, they'd gotten that mess cleaned up and helped bring a substantial amount of water back to Mars. So all's well that ends well, right?

Not quite.

Throttle had been rather moody and silent for the last few days. Not that anyone could blame him. Coming back home after five years off-world only to be tried for war crimes you were framed for by your worst enemy, would ruin anybody's day. Coming back after five years to the woman you'd been religiously faithful to, only to have her accuse you of betrayal and try to kill you; now that was enough to ruin your whole year.

Vinnie and Modo, recognizing an infamous 'Carbine moment' when they saw one, had steered clear of their tan-furred bro for while. They figured that he needed time to not only process what happened, but to come to grips with his own girlfriend believing such terrible lies about him, without letting him defend himself. (Personally, Vincent was all for Throttle dumping the general and helping his bro find a nice girl that didn't know what a cannon was, let alone how to fire one. But that might have been just Vinnie.)

Throttle had been downright snappish since they'd got back, and finally Modo and Vinnie had cleared out of the Scoreboard and went over to Charley's to hide out for a while. The mechanic, who'd finally managed to recover all the work she'd been behind on, had called them giant pansies and insisted they go back to the 'board to try and help their bro. Both Martians had promptly called her suicidal; Throttle might have a fuse a mile long, but he had a nasty temper if you managed to finally make him ignite. And currently, he was ready to blow at any minute.

Charley sighed, and kicked both Mice out. She told them to ask Throttle to come see her, that it was important, and to bring some heavy metal tapes that he liked best. The mechanic promise it would help. The two exchanged confused looks, but did as she asked.

An hour later, a surly Throttle had arrived at the garage, Charley nowhere to be seen. Cheez, if she'd wanted him here to badly, she could at least stick around until he came! He heard her call for him from the backyard, and went to see what she wanted. She was unloading a large crate from the back of her pick-up truck, and he went over to help her. They carried it to the side fence of her yard, and she grabbed a crowbar to open it. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of more than a hundred cheap, glass, jelly jars. "What's all this for?"

"Therapy," she said promptly.

"What?" he said flatly.

She picked up a jar and hefted its weight in her hand. "Therapy," she repeated, suddenly throwing the jar with all her strength at the wooden fence, where it shattered very nicely. She got out another jar and handed it to him. He just looked at her like she was crazy. Charlene shook her head. "Throw it," she said.

"Charley, this is stupid"-

_**"THROW IT!"**_

He threw out of startled reflex, shattering it loudly against the fence, and she handed him another. "Keep throwing until you feel better," she said simply, walking off to sit on the hood of her jeep. "Trust me, it works a lot better than a punching bag."

Throttle looked down at the jar in his hand and, feeling ridiculous while he did it, threw it against the fence. Glass exploded from the impact and fell to the ground. He grabbed another jar. Suddenly, one of his favorite metal bands started playing, and he turned to find that Charley had put one of his tapes into the jeep's newer cassette player. "Keep going," she said firmly. "And think about what's been ticking you off while you do it."

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, and threw another jar at the fence. It was a bit more satisfying this time, and he grabbed another jar. _What ticks me off, eh? How about being bossed around by women that think they know everything_-SMASH!-_even if they mean well_-SMASH!

He shook his head from that thought. Charley was just trying to help. She was still being bossy, but she didn't really mean anything by it. Still-SMASH, SMASH, SMASH!

"Now you're getting it!" she called over the sound of the music. "Feeling any better?"

He was about to roll his eyes when he realized that he wasn't as irritated with her as he was five minutes ago. "Yeah," he said in mild surprise. He looked back at the fence, and his tail unconsciously pulled the crate of jars closer. "Therapy, huh?"

He threw another jar. SMASH! _How about for the flat I got last week-_SMASH_!-stuck waiting for half an hour because Modo couldn't find the stupid tire-_SMASH_!-and how Vincent never shuts up about that race he won-_SMASH_! _SMASH_!-and how Modo never shuts up about his Momma-_SMASH_!-for Rimfire always getting into some kind of trouble, all to be some kind of hero and not understanding a damn thing about what you have to give up to do it_-SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For loosing Harley and Vinnie's grief-_

SMASH! SMASH!

_For Mace being a spy and not knowing it sooner-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For Stoker being captured and making me the leader-_

SMASH! SMASH!

_For being stupid enough to crash their spaceship into the freakin' scoreboard during a game-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For falling for that damn hate ray of Evil-Eye Weevil's-_

SMASH!

_For every time they were never there fast enough to protect Charlene like they should-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For all their time in Plutarkian prisons-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_And Limburger being here on Earth-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_And Brie!_

SMASH!

_And Parmasanga!_

SMASH!

_And Provalone!_

SMASH!

_For letting Karbunkle get away all those times-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For the time in Karbunkle's lab-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For Modo's arm-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_Not protecting his bros-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For Vinnie's face-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For being too drugged up to tell something was wrong with Stoker back on Mars-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_For Carbine-_

SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!

_For the arrest-_

SMASH! SMASH!

_For the guards mocking them outside their jail cell-_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_That they had a jail cell at all!_

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

_Charged with crimes they would __**NEVER-**_

SMASH!

_**EVER-**_

SMASH!

_**EVER COMMIT!**_

SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!SMASH!

He didn't know when he started shouting his thoughts, but he was now. "For Carbine **_ever _**thinking we could just turn our backs on Mars! For thinking we would _**ever **forget **everyone **that died and sacrificed for us to survive, for our world to survive! How she could **ever **think that I would betray her, our home, our families, our world? ! How could she ever think I would work with **Plutarkians**? ! Work for **Karbunkle**? !"_

The crate lid went flying, breaking against the stronger wood of the fence.

"_How could she ever, **ever **believe that I would do such a thing? ! Does she even know me **at all? !** And she didn't even **ask **me! She didn't even ask if it was true! She just went along with everything those fragging geezers said! **How could she do that to me? ! How could she? ! I loved her! How could she betray me like that? !"**_

The crate itself was now in pieces about the size of mulch, having been pounded into the ground after Throttle had ran out of jars and then shattered the wood with a punch from his Nuk-Knuks. He panted hard, his entire body shaking in the aftermath. His shades had fallen off in his fury, and Charley quietly walked over and picked them up. She slowly came over to his side and gently slipped them on his face. He took the bottle of water she offered, swallowing it down in greedy gulps. With slow movements, she took his hand and pulled him into the garage, leading him up the stairs to the living room so he could collapse on the couch. He was still shaking and panting, his eyes unfocused.

Charley hoped she'd done the right thing. If anything, he looked worse than when he'd first come over. She gently cupped his cheek in her hand so that he looked her in the eye. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Every muscle in his body quivered like he'd fought for hours on end and his tail twitched jerkily. Sweat dripped off his body and his antennae hung low on his brow, his ears drooping against the sides of his head. His insides felt like someone had knotted him up and then pulled him apart and then stuffed it all back in. He was a thousand times lighter than before, relieved of a poisonous pressure and anger that he'd never known was festering inside him. But for all his release, he was somehow a bit sadder at the same time. Realizations were sifting through his mind, but right now his thoughts were blurry and too quick to catch on to. It took a minute for his eyes to focus enough on her to give her an answer.

"Never felt better."

* * *

Thank you all so much for all the entries into my BMFM Quote Challenge. I still have a few that I'm working on with a few other authors, but they should be up soon! For anyone that hasn't sent anything in yet, don't worry! I can post them to my story, or you can post them on your own. In fact, I'd love to see more BMFM authors for our fandom. Our furry bros need all the love they can get!


	44. The First Something Completly Different

For GirlyGeek, who asked for something Monty Python related a while back, but I just now figured out how I wanted to spin it.

The First Something Completely Different.

"Are you serious?" Throttle asked in disbeleif.

"Absolutely," Charley answered.

"...really?"

"Yes," she said sternly.

"So we really have to go register our-what did you call it again?"

"Your Martian strut, which is different from badass strut and cocky strut, I've already told you," she said in exasperation. "You have to register your strut at the Ministry of Silly Walks sometime today."

"And...why exactly do we have to register?" Throttle asked.

"Medical billing."

"Medical billing?" he asked in surprise.

"Of course," she said in a tone of voice that clearly implied 'duh'. "If Vinnie ever thows out a hip doing that Martian strut of his, and he's been setting himself up for that for a while now from the look of it, having his strut on file will help any doctor figure out just what the man did to himself instead of trying to reconstruct it from scratch. It would help determine what kind of physical therapy he'd need, too. It just saves time all around," she said sternly. Her mouth suddenly twitched. "So how close are you to actually buying this?"

Throttle stared for a moment and then burst into laughter. "Haha, you almost had me for a minute there! Hahaha!"

"Good," she said with a grin. "If it almost got you, then do you think it will work on anyone else?"

Throttle arched an eyebrow. "Who do you have in mind? Vinnie?"

"Bingo!" she laughed.

"Oh, I'm in," he said with a grin. "Now we just have to pick someplace to be the Misty-Misery-what did you call it again?"

"The Ministry of Silly Walks," she said. "And I've got the perfect place in mind. The gynecologist's office on East Street doesn't have a sign out front, but it looks like a professional building. I'll tell Vinnie that I've already called ahead to get his appointment, so all he has to do is sign in."

Throttle blinked, then howled in laughter. "Hahaha! Oh gods, he'll be traumitized for life! We have to get Modo in on this!"

Three hours later, a very twitchy Vincent Van Wham rolled back into the garage. None of the other three could look at him, for fear they would burst out laughing. The white mouse just walked in front of the tan and grey mice that couldn't stop snickering, and with two sharp uppercuts to the chin, sent both of them flying across the room to crash into the wall. He then turned to Charlene, his eyebrow twitching badly at her grin. "Have fun at the doctor's, Vinnie?" she asked sweetly.

He just glared. "Of course you know," he said grimly, "this means war."

She grinned. "Bring it on."


	45. The First Mail Order

To those that asked if this story has an end; Hell no! Lol, guys, this story is just a bunch of one-shots, loosely connected to each other. I try to stay as true to cannon as I possibly can, but there was so much that never got covered by this series. Like any mention of Charley's family, a love interest for Modo, or if Charley ever does stay with them on Mars. (I Do Not Count the New Series. Never Saw It, so It Doesn't Count!)

Now, on with some humor!

The First Mail Order

In the center of Chaos known as Chicago, one law of physics holds true above all.

Nature Hates A Vaccum.

It was a clear, sunny day in the city of Chicago. Everything was peaceful and quiet around town. Limburger Tower had just been rebuilt, so recently in fact, that there' hadn't been time for Karbunkle or Limburger to call in a villian or start another scheme. There wasn't a single crime being commited, a goon acting out, or a cloud in the sky. EVerything was calm.

Charlene Davidson slammed the door to the Scoreboard open, a sheet of paper in her hand and fury written in her stance. "_**VINCENT**! Why do I have a bill for 8000 gallons of tartar sauce being shipped to Limburger Tower? !_"

Vinnie, rather bewildered on this one, answered from his spot behind the couch where he'd hid on her entrance. "I-I have no idea! Really! Really I don't!"

"Oh. Sorry, that's my bad," Throttle answered, shocking them all. He came out from behind the bookcase where he'd taken cover on her charging in. "I've got the cash for it over here, sorry, Charley-girl. But we don't exactly have a billing address here at the 'board, you know? So I had to put down your place."

Charley just stared at him in shocked horror. Logical, cool, calm, and to her knowledge, the most sane of all three bikers, Throttle, had done this? _Oh please god, no_. If she lost him, the insanity the Biker Mice from Mars caused on a regular basis would surely spread to cover the entire Earth! "Why...why on earth would you send 8000 gallons of tartar sauce to Limburger?"

"I just thought the fish might like some seasoning for when we finally fry him," he said with a shrug.

"...so you're putting this one down to psycological torture?" she said, giving him a look.

He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Ah," she answered with a nod of understanding. "You should have said something, we could have made it a package deal with all the sushi restaurant coupons I've been sending him."

"You too?" Modo asked in surprise, standing up from his hiding spot behind the tv. "For which place, the hibachi grill on Parker Avenue or the sushi parlor on Main Street?"

"Wha - am I the only one not in on this? !" Vinnie asked in shock.

Charley started to laugh at the situation. "I think so Vin, yes. So Throttle, what exactly do you think he's going to do with all that sauce?"

Throttle grinned, "Oh, he doesn't know he's got it yet."

"Oh?"

"Yep, he should know about it at...wait, what time is it?"

She checked her watch. "Um, three-thirteen, why?"

"Holy Mother, get moving bros! We're gonna miss the show! Get your helmets on too, you don't want to miss the second half!" He waited until they all had their helmets on and then herded them all outside on the roof to a veiw of the Tower, and counted down from ten. Right on que, an explosion sounded and fountains of white sauce exploded from the Tower's roof, the gunk pouring down the building. Fireworks shot off into the air from the buildings next to it, screaming bottle rockets and roman candles shooting into the Tower, breaking the window glass and allowing the sause to pour inside. It also raised noxious fumes as the sauce started to burn from the pyrotechnics. More rockets shot off from various other buildings around the Tower, loaded with what looked like nets full of - Charley turned on the magnification settings on her bike helmet's visor, Modo and Vincent not a second behind her. Were those nets full of french fries and hush puppies?

Everyone stared in pure surprise for a second, and Throttle started to howl in laughter. "Oh man, can you imagine the conniption he's having right now? He'll be having a full epileptic fit!" He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Look, its the attack of Long John Silvers! Its Captain D's revenge!"

A faint, echoing shout of "My Tower!" could barely be heard over the distance. And to the other three's surprise, the Tower slowly started to crumble! Bit by bit, the stone fell off the steele frame, the rooms collapsed, and the entire structure fell in a giant pool of fries, hush puppies, and smoking tartar sauce!

The dust finally settled, and a weeping Limburger could be seen by the rubble, Karbunkle and Greasepit awkwardly patting the Plutarkian's shoulders. There was a long moment of silence between Charley, Modo, and Vincent; the only sound around was Throttle's gasps for air as he almost hysterically laughed. Charley just started to slowly clap, soon joined in by Modo and Vinnie until it was full out applause. Vinnie sniffed and wiped away a tear. "I'm so proud of you, man. Seriously. I never knew you had it in you!"

Throttle finally calmed down enough to look up at them and smirk. "What can I say? Everyone's got a little deviant in 'em."


	46. The First Poker Night

Shout outs to GirlyGeek for her great story 'Earth: The Final Battlefeild.' To Morning, the first Queen of BMFM Fanfiction, for her reposting of 'The Pink Ribbon'. And many kudos to my friend RockNRide, for the newest chapter of 'Winter in Chi-town'! You all are wonderful, talented writers and we all rejoice for your writing.

To Fairdrea, thanks for all your kind words. To Eternalfan, thank you for your encouragement. To dear Kashito91, thank you so much for everything.

On with the fic!

The First Poker Night

Blue eyes looked over the room, assessing and appraising the Mice around the table. Charlene smirked over her huge pile of poker chips. "Okay, so now I own your arm," she pointed to Throttle, "Vinnie's left butt cheek, Stoker's right ear, Rimfire's right ear, and Modo's entire lower body. Not a bad haul for eighteen hands of poker."

"Oh come on, Charley-ma'am, have a little mercy!" Rimfire protested.

"Yeah, how were we supposed to know that you're a freakin' card shark?" Vinnie muttered.

"You all are such a bunch of giant pansies. Now shut up and ante in, boys! Texas Hold'em or Riverboat style?" she said, expertly dealing out the cards.

Modo groaned as he looked over the small sheets of paper listing various body parts that was all he had left to bet. "Can't we just play Straight Up Poker?

The older dark brown mouse paused for a moment before answering, "...for the sheer amount of innuendo in that title, no."

Vinnie gave him a disgusted look. "Cheez, Stoker, you really are a dirty old mouse. "

"And still proud of it, boy! You will never be _half _the dirty old mouse I am."

"With such a lofty goal to aim for, he can at least have fun tryin'," Throttle muttered as he ante'd in his left arm. He also made a mental note to make sure to try and keep any future poker nights a secret from Charley. They literally couldn't afford it! If it got any worse, they'd have to start betting their clothing!

Three hours later, a blushing Charlene Davidson had driven home. She was now the proud owner of a leather vest, four pairs of jeans, a set of bandoleers, eight boots, a yellow shirt, a pair of dogtags, and two green army vests. Out of embarrassment and mercy, she'd let the boys all keep their underwear.

Except Stoker's. She glanced in her rear-view mirror, where she could see a pair of red boxer shorts tied to her radio antennae like a bright flag. The human girl grinned. That would teach that dirty old mouse to try and get her to bet her bra.


	47. The First Girls Night In

Shout outs to everyone! You guys are so great, and encourage me so much. Thank you all.

Oh, and please, everyone, go check out Kashito91's new fics! The First Drum Set and The First Speech, I've read them and their awesome!

The First Girls' Night In

A bolt tightened here, a washcloth to wipe off a bit of road dust there, and finally she was done with Throttle's bike. She breathed softly in relief as the black and chrome bike's motor purred soflty in approval. "I take it you like my work?" she asked teasingly.

The bike bounced a little on it's front axel, as if it was nodding its 'head'. Vinnie's red racer and Modo's Lil' Hoss echoed the movement.

Charlene blinked in surprise. She knew that the bikes could communicate with their riders, but hadn't thought they would really try to talk to her. After all, she wasn't even the same species as their boys. She cocked an eyebrow at the black motorcycle. "You know, I never thought to ask, but exactly how much of what I say do you understand?"

The bike seemed to pause for a second, then moved its headlight towards the other two bikes. They almost seemed to be having a conversation before rolling over to her computer. Three red cords were ejected from the bottom of the crank cases of each bike, jacking into the computer and making the word prosessor screen come up. A line of script in black appeared and Charley looked at it in confusion. It looked a bit like what happned when she accidently changed the font on her financial records to that crazy 'Wing-dings' font. "If you guys are trying to talk to me on this, you might want to switch to English."

Lil' Hoss let off a series of beeps and squawks in the black bike's direction, as if it was scolding the other. Then a line of script appeared on the screen in blue. _Hello. Lil' Hoss speak_.

Charley's mouth dropped open. She looked over to the purple bike. "Seriously? You can talk?"

_Write. Little words._

"Wow," she breathed in wonder. "That's amazing! Clever girl!" she praised. "But where did you learn English?"

_Internet._

Want write! came another line, this time in red. The mechanic was non-plussed and looked over to the red bike. "You too? Smart girl", she said in admiration, before pausing. "Ah, are you all girls? I know the boys all call you girls, but do you have genders?"

All three bikes shook their handlebars from side to side, three lines of color all saying the same thing. _No._ Lil' Hoss clarified it. _My rider no ride boy. Like girl. Want ride girl. Say Lil' Hoss girl._

Charley found herself laughing. "I can see that."

Vinnie's racer chimed in, My rider fast! Want fast all ride!

"Wants to ride fast all the time," Charley corrected. The racer bounced on its front wheel like it was nodding, and retyped it's sentance. Rider wants ride fast all time.

She smiled. "Better, but we can work on it later." She glanced over at the black bike. "You've been very quiet. Oh, there's something I wanted to ask, but he never answers me. Do you have a name? Lil' Hoss has a name, and-oh, jeez," she looked back to the racer, "is your name really Sweetheart?"

Red script scrolled on the screen. No name. Rider say Sweetheart. Bike Sweetheart.

"He calls you 'Sweetheart' so you answer to 'Sweetheart', but you don't really have a name," she clarified.

_Bike name 10 years_, Lil' Hoss wrote.

Charley frowned in confusion, trying to puzzle it out. "You only get a name after 10 years?"

The purple bike shook its handlebars in a 'no' motion. _Rider say name 10 years. Name 10 years._

"If he calls you something for 10 years, then its your name?" She blinked in suprise when the bike bounced in a 'nod'. "Wow. When the guys said you all were in it for the long haul, they weren't kidding. And what about you?" she asked the black bike. "Do you have a name?"

The black bike answered now. **No name. Bike is Bike. Rider ride lady, no name.**

"He calls you a girl, but doesn't really call you by a name." Charley nodded, thinking. "I'll have to pick on him for you, a gorgeous bike like you needs a name."

The black bike paused a moment as if in surprise, then rolled forward enough to brush its wheel against her leg and rub gently. **Thank you. Want name.**

She smiled. You're welcome. "So ladies," tell me, she knelt down to look them in the headlights, "what can you tell me about yourselves?"

The design specs of each bike was uploaded into her computer files in seconds. Looking them over, she couldnt' help her abject admiration of the Martian designs, not only for the bikes themselves, but for the incredibly sophistocated A.I. programs they possessed. Earth wouldn't be coming close to something this beautifully complex for at least a decade.

The bikes were equipped with learning programs, so that they could constantly adapt to their enviorments and their rider's needs. They had behavior sub-routines that would act like personalities, had insanely complicated security programming to prevent them from being stolen, and had a shockingly impressive intelligence level for any machine. Lil' Hoss was, hands down, the most intelligent bike. She was almost 57 years old, (completely shocking the mechanic, as she looked no older than 3 or 5, proof of her rider's love and care), and had been learning and developing for all that time. She was easily in the fifth grade level solely on her own learning, which was farther than any machine or computer on Earth could claim.

Throttle's bike was at the third grade level, but had many more battle tactic programs loaded into her systems than the other bikes. Thus, while Lil' Hoss was technically smarter, Throttle's bike would be the one that led them into any sort of battle by having more tactical knowledge than the older bike. One thing that had surprised Charley was the lack of personality sub-routines that this bike had. Lil' Hoss had several loaded into her, making her more loyal to her rider and the rider's family; even to the point of sharing her rider's personality traits. This bike lacked anything like that.

Charley wondered why, and then had the terrible thought that maybe Throttle had lost a bike before. The Biker Mice loved their bikes, there was no mistaking that. But Throttle had always talked about his bike in a more impersonal manner than the other two; almost like he didn't want to get attatch to her. Maybe he didn't. She couldnt' imagine how much it would devastate Modo to loose Lil' Hoss. If Throttle had lost a bike that was as close to him as Lil' Hoss was to Modo, that might explain it. He didn't want to risk loosing another bike. It was the same relationship that some guys had with their dogs, she supposed. Sometimes a dog truly was a man's best friend, and loosing that dog could hurt greatly.

Vinnie's racer was at about the second grade level, but was learning very quickly, given the insane amount of exposure to information internets of other planets she had been exposed to, and the various programs Vincent had loaded into her personality matrix. It seemed that Vinnie wanted his bike to be more like him. Which actually suited the design of the bike just fine. He was a speed demon; this bike was built to go fast, ridiculously fast. It was a match made in heaven.

Each bike was unique to each rider's style of combat. Lil' Hoss had more endurance and pull than the other two, matching Modo's powerhouse style. Vinnie's racer was built for speed, matching Vinnie's hit and run style attacks. Throttle's bike was the perfect mix of the two, just like Throttle's style of agility, stamina, and speed mixed in.

"Wow," Charley said in admiration. "That saved more time than you know." She brought up her design program and started to make some modifications, going over some ideas that she'd been kicking around for the boys' weaponry systems. "What do you think?" she asked.

Off balance, the red bike said. Top heavy. Set 8.997 inches on lower back axel.

_Good match, _Lil' Hoss said_. Set 3.8 inches lower, more traction._

**2.54 inches higher, **the black bike said**. Increase energy output 16%.**

Charlene Davidson stared in shock, before a grin slowly formed. "Girls, I do believe we are going to make great things together," she said happily. "Good lord, the only thing I could think of to top this is if you had blackmail on the bros too."

A soft rev sounded from all three bikes, and several images suddenly appeared on the screen. Each was a snapshot caught by individual cameras mounted on the bikes, and each was of something hilarious! A picture of when Throttle and Carbine had been caught 'having fun' by what appeared to be her father, and the looks on their faces were priceless! A black and white shot of Modo (the 7 feet, 1 inch tall giant powerhouse) being scolded by his grey-furred Momma, (all of 4 feet tall and still scarily intimidating), including her shaking her finger at the shame-faced male. But the best was of a mud-covered Vinnie, with jeans ripped right over his butt, attempting to get out of the mudhole and look impressive as a group of pretty girls laughed.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. There were dozens of photos from each bike, spanning what looked like years, and each one a different embarrassing incident of excellent blackmail material.

Charley lit up like it was Christmas come early. "This is the start of a beautiful friendship," she said dreamily.

The bikes revved happily.


	48. The First Holiday Cheers

To dear, dear Sandra Kaysin-12, many happy wishes to you and yours! To GirlyGeek, we are so stoked to see your story again! To RocknRide, your story is awesome, and you are too! Griff-chan, keep on trucking, and may the muse hit you soon! To Kashito91, Matt, *hugs and kisses your cheek*. To my dear friend Louise, your story is going to be awesome! And I can't wait to see it here!

To all my friends and reviewers, you all rock! Many best wishes to you and yours for a wonderful new year, may it be filled with good times, good food, good company, and good fortune!

The First Holiday Cheers

Charley stacked the mugs of hot chocolate on a tray, not willing to risk spilling the delicious drinks as she carried them to the living room. She walked in on her three biker bros sitting at the couch, the boys marvelling over her Christmas tree. This would be their first Christmas on Earth, and it was right after Limburger had tried to steal the orphange's land. Her boys had gone with her to the orphange to deliver presents, extra blankets, and winter supplies for the underfunded building. They had even dressed as Santas to help cheer the children.

She smiled at the Martians as she handed out the drinks. "Here, try this. Its hot chocolate, an absolute must after a cold day." Vinnie took his cup eagerly, the smell of rich chocolate making him drool. "Oh sweetheart, you know I love chocolate!"

Throttle sipped the hot drink cautiously, nodding in appreciation. "Its good."

Modo sighed in content, easing back in the recliner. "Thanks, Charley-ma'am. A hot drink hits the spot right about now."

Charley sank back in her chair, a few hot gulps of chocolate easing the slight ache in her chest caused by the cold. "So, what do you guys think of Christmas so far?"

All three Mice paused, exchanging looks. "Honestly?" Vinnie said. "Its a heck of a toy racket, if the commercials are anything to go by."

She laughed, "No kidding. And it gets worse every year."

"Other than that, its been a lot of fun," Modo said. "Givin' those kids presents really made their day."

"I'm glad you all like it," the mechanic said. "So, do Martians celebrate anything this time of year?"

"For the winter solstice?" Throttle asked to clarify. "Oh yeah, Shavis De Vi'sine."

Charley arced an eyebrow at the Martian words and took a shot at the pronunciation. "Cha-vey davy sign?"

"Sha-VIS De Vi-SINE," Modo corrected. "Its the name of the feastival we have every winter solstice. Roughly translated, it means 'to make warmth in the cold.' The closest holiday your people have to it is, um, that day with all the hearts and candy and stuff."

"Valentine's Day?" Charley said in surprise.

"That's it, yeah!" Modo said, nodding.

"Parades, dancing, snow fort battles," Throttle reminisced. "Lots of bonfires, and the big fire pits"-

"Roasting a big, juicy norsak in the fire pits," Modo said, drooling a bit at the memory. "Man, Momma would put all kinds of betogah roots and diced mincezes in with it and wrap it up in choka leaves, and then cover the whole thing in hot coals and let it cook in the sand and oh, you could smell that cooking for miles!"

"Aw, don't mention norsaks," Vinnie groaned, leaning back in his seat. "I miss how my mom would make it. She'd be guarding her pit like a sentry, turning the meat over and over and smacking my hand every time I'd try to take a piece. It would smell so good, you could smell it for blocks! The whole neighborhood would be after her recipe for the glaze she'd put on it."

"The whole neighborhood?" Charley asked. "So its like a big block party?"

"You bet," Throttle said, a distant smile on his face as he remembered. "The parades would be full of musicians and people would be dancing in the streets and jumping over bonfires with their sweethearts."

Modo started to laugh, "And clothes would be thrown off, I remember that!"

"Aw no, bro, don't tell her that story!" Throttle said, a red flush forming on his cheeks and ears.

"Oh, I think I want to hear this one," Charley said, a grin forming as she saw the blush growing on Throttle's face.

"The lady asked," Modo said with a smile. "And like Momma says, 'Its better to give the lady what she wants than to get in her way.' So let me tell you about the last Shavis De Vi'sine we had on Mars. It was right after the Battle of the Tug-Transformer, and we were really partying over that victory. Winter had really hit hard that year, so we already had fires going in the main yards of the base. So when Shavis-time rolled around, the fires were burning and roasting pits got set up.

"Well, Throttle here had been working on his bike all day and got some gas on his clothes. So when the party started, and the dancing and jumping over the fires started, he paired up with Carbine and they were just dancing along. And then his pants got too close to the fire"-

"Do we really need to hear this part?" Throttle asked, his face bright red.

"Yes!" The other three chorus in unision. "Go on, Big Guy," Vinnie said eagerly.

Modo grinned. "So Throttle's pants got too close and caught on fire," he started to chuckle, "and he doesn't even notice, but Carbine does, and she starts smacking his pants, trying to put out the fire, and he's running away from her because he thinks she attacking him"-

Charley and Vinnie were already laughing as Throttle tried to defend himself, "I had three layers of clothes on! I didn't feel it burning!"

"So," Modo tried to control his laughter, "so Carbine's chasing Throttle all over the base, with his pants on fire, and then he figures it out, and then he starts running and screaming 'Put me out, put me out!' And Carbine just shouts after him, 'That's what I'm trying to do!' and Stoker can't hardly breathe he's laughing so hard" - Modo was gasping for breath now - "And then Rimfire comes out with a bucket of water, and chucks it at Throttle, and hits Carbine instead, so she just up and tackles Throttle to the ground, smacking the heck out of his pants with her wet shirt." Modo had to stop and try to catch his breath as everyone but Throttle was laughing so hard they were almost in tears. "Stoker still has pictures of them, all muddy and smoking on the ground!"

Charley had to work to take a breath after that. "Ahahah! Oh god, that was great. Poor Carbine."

"Poor-Poor Carbine?" Throttle said in disbelief. "I was the one with their pants on fire!"

"Girls got to stick together," Charley said slyly.

"Yeah, yeah," Throttle muttered, sending a glare over to his still-laughing bros. "Since you all got one story on me, I do think I need to tell Charley about the first time Modo got introduced to Venusian Dragon Whiskey."

Both Mice just froze, their faces masks of horror. "No, no, you really don't need to," Vinnie said in a tiny squeak.

"But I like that story," Throttle said, a devious look on his face. "So Charley, let me tell you about the Shavis-time before that year, when Modo got a hold of a case of Dragon Whiskey. We were coming back from raiding Colonel Kraft's base down in the Valles Marinares, and we had loads of recovered supplies. We got back to base and opened up all the crates and it was presents for everyone. Now, a couple of the bros had been making fun of Vinnie, calling him a light-weight drinker"-

"Not a lie," Charley said with a grin. She laughed at Vin's blush, "You gotta admit, its sad when a girl smaller than you can drink you under the table, Vincent."

"Yeah, well, you're a frickin' lush," the white mouse muttered. Modo promptly smacked him upside the head, "Ow!"

Throttle chuckled. "Anyway, Vinnie runs over to the crates and grabs the biggest keg of Venusian Dragon Whiskey I've ever seen, and claims it for all the girls he's gonna dance with at Shavis De Vi'Sine. Well, Modo had been wanting to claim it for Rimfire's sixteenth birthday bash. So they end up fighting over it, and Stoker breaks them up and says that whoever can drink the most whiskey and still get the keg home gets to keep the keg. So Vincent and Modo go to the Mess Hall and start chugging down mugs full of whiskey. Vinnie made it through half a mug, pulls out a lighter and does his best to breathe fire." Throttle started to chuckle, "It went out two feet, and then he passed right out. Modo chugged his whole mug, managed to get up, grab the keg and Vincent, and started dragging them home. He made it about eight feet before he passed out.

"So Stoker gets the bright idea-

"C'mon, Throttle, don't tell her this!" Modo pleaded.

"Yeah, bro, have a heart!" Vinnie said, his face bright red.

Throttle just grinned evilly. "So Stoker gets the bright idea of taking them both to Modo's Momma's house, set them up on the couch, and dressed them both in drag, taking pictures to the whole time. Those two wake up the next morning, and Modo's Momma was, eheh, mighty ticked, to say the least. She was not happy to see two of her boys drunk and passed out, dressed like girls. She made them both go out, still in drag, and go and apologize to the entire base for acting like fools."

Charley was curled in a ball on the couch, laughing so hard that all she could do was shake and gasp as she tried to catch her breath. Modo and Vinnie were both redder than fire and glaring, then both launched themselves at their leader, fists and fur flying. It took the destruction of her coffee table to get Charlene to stop laughing, and she quickly restored order by threatening to throw the rest of the scalding hot chocolate on all three Mice.

They went back to their respective spots on the couch after cleaning up the remains of her table. Charley shook her head at their antics. "Since you boys told me some on you, I'll tell you a story about me, at Christmas. It was back when I was engaged to Jack, and he came with me to the family Christmas party down in Florida. We get down there, everyone's partying, eating, laughing, throwing back some shots. Well, my cousins decide to get me and Jack under the mistletoe to kiss-oh, its some old tradition that if you and a partner are caught under a sprig of mistletoe, you have to kiss or get bad luck-so they heard me and him under there. Jack's already had some shots, so when we get ready to kiss, he falls over, takes me with him, right into the Chrismas tree.

"We knock it down, ornaments go flying everywhere, the lights on the tree blow out, that shorts out the fuses so the entire house goes dark, the tree lands in a lit fireplace and catches on fire. Me and Jack are scrambling to get out of the tree, fire and smoke is going everywhere, people are trying to get out of the house and put out the flames, the fire hydrant outside gets knocked over by my cousin Lou trying to put the hose on it, she soaks the entire house with water." The boys were rolling laughing at this point. "We all stumble out, smoking, sooty, covered in broken ornaments and pine tree bits, carrying whatever presents we could save, and Jack gets declared the reason that Christmas got cancelled for the Davidson family." She paused a minute. "That should have told me something right then, but I was too stubborn to listen back then."

The human smiled at her Martian bros. "I'm pretty sure you guys have me beat for best story, but I like to think mine is respectable." Modo just got up, still laughing, and hugged her. "You gotta love this time of year," he said, grinning.

She raised her mug of hot chocolate. "To the holidays! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" The three Martian Mice said, grinning and laughing.

* * *

Charley's story is a true story, about me and my children's father. Lol. Truth can be so much funnier than fiction.


	49. The First Word Lost in Translation

Everyone, rejoice and be glad! RocknRide got out another chapter of her awesome story, Winter In Chi-Town! She just threw in a huge twist in the plot, and I am thoroughly excited to see what happens next. Show her some love, people!

To all my friends, you all are amazing! To everyone that's reviewed, thank you.

The First Time Lost in Translation

Modo sank down in the couch, tiredly stretching out his legs. Throttle slowly trudged over to the spot beside him, almost falling down into the sofa as he rested for the first time in 14 hours. Vincent managed to carry three bottles of root beer and dispense them before he sat down in the arm chair of Charley's living room, his ears and antennae drooping in exhaustion. It took effort to talk, and from the Martian Motormouth, that was saying something for how tired he was. "So, we're done for the next few days, right?" he asked.

Throttle blinked slowly, his body almost aching to sleep. "Yeah, bro. With the Tower down, we're good."

Modo lay his head back, his eye drifting shut. "Praise be. I hope stink-face never hires that Clobber...Cloner...whatever his name is, again."

Gentle fingers traced over a shallow cut on the grey Mouse's forehead, and he blinked up at their human friend. "Long day, Big Guy?" Charley asked softly, dabbing at the dried blood with a cold damp cloth.

He moaned softly in appreciation as she proceeded to clean his few cuts and scrapes. "Yes, ma'am. This new villian brought his own crew to fight us."

"He was his own crew," Throttle corrected, opening his root beer with a quick twist of his tail and drinking a long pull of soda. "Stupid scrapper would make a clone every time you hit him. A freakin' one man army, and we had to grab and bag every last clone he had before we could take him out. Without hitting him! We finally had to gas him to sleep before we could take out the Tower."

"So many little creeps running around, all over the city..." Vinnie groaned as he sank deeper into the chair. "And with lard-butt's goons helping him-all 200 of him-hide, it took hours to catch them all."

The girl winced. "Ow. That must have been hard. You boys hungry? I can make you a quick dinner if you want."

A soft rumble filled the room, and Modo looked down to his stomach with a slight blush. "Is it possible to be too tired to be hungry, and still be hungry?"

Charley laughed softly, "Yeah, I think so. I'll make some hotdogs for you, it shouldn't take too long, and then you guys can get some sleep. If you want, you can wash up while I'm cooking."

"I'd probably drown in the shower at this point," Throttle said lowly as he laid his head back on the couch, his head nodding in attempts to not fall asleep.

Vinnie stirred, trying to stay awake, and decided to ask a question that had been bugging him and the guys for a while. Of course, the reason they hadn't asked Charley this question before completely escaped him right then. But with that Cloner guy shouting it at them all night, he was rather curious. "Hey sweetheart, me and the guys were wondering, what does 'f-"

-a semi-truck's horn sounded in the distance-

"-k' mean?"

CRASH! The sound of a glass bottle shattering on the floor snapped out, making the three Mice startle to a more awake state. "What?" Charley asked in shock. She leaned back through the doorway, wide eyes locked on Vincent. "What did you just say?"

The white mouse blinked in surprise at her reaction. "Um, f-"

-another horn sounded in the distance-

"-k?"

She gasped. "Vincent!"

"What?"

"Don't say that!"

"Don't say what?"

"That!"

"Don't say that?"

"No!"

He blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Don't say,..." she blushed slightly, her voice quieting, "that word."

"F-"

"Vincent!"

"What?"

"That word!"

"What-I just want to know what it means!"

"No you don't!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Why?"

"Because Fish-face's goons call us that all the time and I want to know what it means! And they keep using that word with something about our moms, and I want to know what they think they're saying about my Mom!" Both Thorttle and Modo were fully awake and interested now, especially Modo.

Charley's eyes were wide in horror. She could only imagine how bad this explanation was going to be when all was said and done. She sighed, rubbed her temples with her fingers, and went back in the kitchen to finish the hot dogs. "Okay, lets see. F-U-C-K is an anagram going back about 1000 years, give or take a few centuries. Officially, it stands for Fornication Under Consent of King."

"...what?"

She sighed again. God, some days, she swore she was embarrassed to be human and have such ridiculous histories. "Okay, back in the day, there was this cult that would only let its followers have sex if the king allowed. You had to post a sign outside your house with the anagram on it so no one would try and get you in trouble. Well, the Romans, the major world conquerors of the time, saw this sign and started using it, what the anagram spelled, as a slang word for sex." You could actually hear the blush in her words as she went on. "Of course, that's not all it stands for. Its slang for being screwed over, or messed with. But for the most part, its considered the queen-mother of all dirty words, and I really don't want you to say that word around any women or children ever, okay guys?"

There was a long silence.

Charley began to worry a bit. Had they fallen asleep? "Guys?" She slowly stepped back to look in the living room and blanched at the red glow of Modo's eye, the furious looks on the Martians' faces scaring her. Throttle's teeth were clenched and his eye was clearly twitching behind his shades. Vincent was gripping his flares so hard that she would have sworn she heard the casing crack.

Modo spoke in a tight, cold voice. "You mean to tell me, when those low-life scum were calling us mother-" he cleared his throat, implying the word and not saying it, to respect Charley's request, "-ers, they were implying that we had sex with our own mothers?"

The human girl slowly nodded.

Modo nodded once. "Ah. I see." He rose to his feet. "Gentlemice, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a stong second wind, how about you?"

"Oh yeah," Vincent said as he stood up. "I'm feeling a little frisky right now."

"Same here," Throttle said, his Nuk-Knuks charging. "In fact, I'm feeling the sudden urge to go beat the dirty mouth off of some morons of Limburger's. Thanks for fixing dinner, Charley-girl, but we have a few things to discuss with some soon-to-be-dead thugs. Don't wait up for us."

They proceded to march out the door, whistling for their bikes and racing out into the night. Not even an hour later, Charley was watching the news and heard the reports of several bars being demolished in what appeared to be the result of a three man (more like three mouse) riot. She sighed softly, and went to check the money safe. The mechanic figured it would take quite a bit of cash to bail those three furballs out of prison.

!#$%^&*()

Surely to heaven, those three must have been confused about human swear words. Especially that one. And really, who else could they ask?


	50. The First Male Birth Control

To Matt; Hope this makes you smile, *hugs*.

To all my readers/reviewers; Thank you all so much!

The First Male Birth Control

"Okay, its official. I have dust where dust was never meant to go."

"Oh, quit your whining Vinnie, and get that box down the stairs before you trip over it!" Modo scolded.

It took massive effort to get Biker Mice to do chores, but Charley had the incentive. She had threatened not only the hotdog shortage of the decade, but to cut off all the air conditioning to the Scoreboard for the summer. Throttle had given his bros one twitching look, and they had quickly agreed to her demands.

The reason for all this? Money had run a little short for the electric bill, so Charlene had decided to have a yard sale to make some quick cash. (Vinnie was still making it up to her for running up the bill by using four hair dryers at once after each shower.) She had raided the basement already, and called for reinforcements to help with the much more crowed attic. The bros had agreed and were currently working on bringing all the boxes and crates down to the main floor so she could look through them. Three dusty Martians sneezed, coughed, and grumbled as they worked to help Charley with her newest project.

To say they had found some interesting things was an understatement. They had found the parts to a moonshine dystillery; the head of what Charley called a 'moose'; a full suit of medieval knight armor; some kind of glowing green rock that their girl refused to part with; several strings of garlic cloves; a chest full of shark and alligator teeth plus a dozen railroad spikes; the metal frame of a stain-glass window; a full human skeleton (that Charley swore was from an uncle that was a science teacher, but Vinnie was getting other ideas...); and even a full rack of what looked like antique keys, but to what, even Charley didn't know.

They had also found six things that moved under their own power that were so fast that no one could identify them. When asked, Charley had looked rather embarrassed as she'd admitted that there was more than one mad scientist in her family's history, so they should approach the little things with extreme caution. The bros had been trying to chase those things out of the attic with no luck.

The Martians were half-way finished moving the attic's contents when Modo's voice suddenly sounded from behind a stack of boxes. "Um, Throttle? I think I found something you need to see."

The tan mouse sighed. "Is it moving?"

"No."

"Could it have been edible at some point?"

"Eh, don't think so."

"Is it alive at all?"

"Sweet Mother of Mars, I hope not."

"Does it look haunted?" Vinnie asked from the other side of Throttle. The white mouse was coated with a fine layer of dust on his bandoleers and jeans. He cautiously held out his fingers in the move to avert the Evil Eye that their friend Manuelo** from the Pits had taught them. "'Cuz if it does, I am outta here."

"Not haunted, but I think it might have done some bad things," Modo answered in a nervous voice.

Throttle grew a bit concerned. "Anything illegal, immoral, or something that man was never meant to tamper with?"

"Um..."

Throttle and Vincent exchanged frowns before they both moved slowly over to where Modo stood. The grey mouse was standing in front of a long, rectangular box that was made of black cardboard. It was 3 feet long, 10 inches wide, and 6 inches deep, stacked on top of a large trunk. On the top of the box was written in white letters 'MALE BIRTH CONTROL DEVICE'. Written under that was 'Property of Ryan Davidson'.

All three males just stared before Vinnie spoke up, glancing at Throttle. "Dare you to open it."

"_Hell, no_," was the tan mouse's immediate answer as he shook his head.

"Nuh-uh," said Modo, shaking his head and slowly backing away from it. "I ain't touching that thing with a ten foot pole."

"Yeah, and if you're so curious, you open it," Thorttle said to the younger mouse.

Vinnie swallowed, then put on his customary swagger. "Charley's right, you guys are a bunch of pansies. I mean, come on, how bad could it be?" His hands moving so slowly towards the lid belied his brave words, and the white mouse steadied himself before taking the lid and pulling it off. He blanched at what he saw, and his tail shakingly reached forward to grab a small slip of paper that was apparently the instructions. His voice cracked as he read them aloud. "_Apply vigorously to male genitilia until daughter is safe_."

The Biker Mice from Mars stared in horror as they looked down at the 25 pound, solid black sledgehammer. Throttle's voice shook as he spoke quietly, "That does it. Her father is the single scariest human I know."

Modo and Vincent nodded in agreement. "Do-", Vinnie cleared his throat nervously, "Do you think he's ever used it?"

Modo shuddered at the thought. "I hope not, or you are in big trouble, bro."

Vincent blinked, "Huh? Why would I be in trouble with her...dad..." He turned a pale shade of green that was visable through his fur. "Um, I think, er-'scuse me!" He bolted down the folding stairs and ran for the bathroom.

Modo glanced over at his tan furred bro. "You know, you should probably be really happy Stoker never thought of this. After all, Carbine is the only girl in his family, right?"

Throttle went rather pale at the idea of Ryan Davidson and Stoker ever exchanging ideas on how to be overprotective. "Sweet Mother of Mars. We never mention this to him, alright?"

"My lips are sealed," the grey mouse promised.

Charley came up the stairs a minute later. "Are you guys okay? Vinnie ran out of here like he saw a ghost, is everything alright?"

Modo and Throttle stepped to the side and revealed the box to her. She walked over and gave it a thoughtful look. "Huh. And I thought Roddy Van Hamm had just stood me up on Prom night. Looks like Dad has some explaining to do." She suddenly laughed. "Man, now I almost feel bad for shooting him with the bazooka!***" The human glanced back at her bros. "So how much do you think I could get for it?"

Modo considered it. "Manuelo has a daughter, right?"

Throttle nodded. "Yeah, she was just born a few months ago, remember?"

"Yeah, that's right," Modo nodded. "She's a real cutie too. Gonna be a heart-breaker when she gets older." He looked back at the mechanic. "Yep, he'll take it off your hands right quick."

Charley laughed. "If he's anywhere near as protective of his daughter as Daddy was of me, he will!"

!#$%^&&*()

** Manuelo had been stuck in the Pits, a dangerous canyon that had been formed during Limburger's stint of deconstruction before the Biker Mice came to Earth. The canyon quickly became the hiding place of the most dangerous and deadly criminals in the Northern United States, and is ruled by a cruel overlord called the Pit Boss. The Pit Boss would send out raiders to get supplies, money, and new slaves for his area to help in the building of his castle. Manuelo, a Hispanic young man that dreamed of building his own grocery store to help his family, was freed by the Bros in the episode "The Pits", in the first season.

*** After accidentally trashing the Last Chance, the Biker Mice get jobs as stunt cyclists to fund the repairs. But the director they are working for is Limburger himself, using the cover of an explosive new film to destroy Chicago. Roddy Van Hamm is the star of the movie, and is Charley's ex-boyfriend that stood her up on Prom night for another girl. The episode is called 'Danger is Our Business', from the second season.


	51. The First Anniversary

According to chats with the show's original writers, around 1998 if I'm not mistaken, the original series' fourth season would have featured more of the bros' pasts. Like about Vinnie and Throttle's families, and Modo's wife. There were ideas that she would have been a Rat, and something about Rat/Mouse prejudice that took her from Modo that would explain his hate for Rats. While I think the idea would have been frickin' A!, I didn't feel like taking it in that direction. So this is what came about.

You can find mention of this chat and other interviews on the Albikermice website. Do a little digging there, and you can find a treasure trove of info and details about the show.

*sighs* If only Power Rangers hadn't knocked BMFM out of the ratings...oh, if only...then we'd have a REAL fourth season...

Disclaimer: I do not own BMFM

The First Anniversary

Charlene glanced over to the tan mouse sitting beside her at the kitchen table. He looked as he always did, calm and collected, but his twitching tail told another story. It took a lot to get him agitated to the point of showing it through his tail, unlike the other two mice. Vinnie had been positively thrashing his tail for the past few days. She hadn't seen Modo much lately, but knowing how sensitive the grey mouse was to the moods around him, she was willing to bet he'd probably taken out some furniture by now.

"So are you gonna talk or do we play 'twenty questions'?" the mechanic asked.

Throttle shifted uneasily as he looked to her. "We got a problem, Charley."

"What's wrong?"

"Its Modo." The tan mouse looked like he would rather be doing anything than talk about this. "There's something coming up here soon, and it's a real bad day for him. "

She frowned in concern. "Something from the war?"

He nodded. "I don't want to ask this, since I don't like it, but can you get something for him? A bottle of wine, something really old and strong if you can. I don't have much, but I'll pay you back for it."

"Wine?" she asked in surprise. Her bros almost never drank, since they were aware that normally Biker Mouse plus alcohol equalled property damage. Why would Modo, of the three of them, want some now? "Sure, I don't mind. But can you tell me why?"

Throttle tensed, and then quietly sighed. "Tomorrow night is his wedding anniversary."

"I didn't know he's married," Charley said, smiling at the thought.

"He _was_," Throttle said, in that same quiet tone. "She was killed two years before we were taken from Mars. The Plutarkians bombed the shelters we were hiding the women and children in, and..."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her heart aching for the gentlest of the three Martians. "I didn't mean to pry. What else will you need?"

"Someplace quiet," Throttle answered. "He likes to be alone, but I don't want him by himself while we're on Earth."

She frowned in concern. "You don't think he'd do something to hurt himself?"

Throttle looked away. "I don't think that. I really don't. But he _should not be alone_, no matter what he says. Every year, he pulls more away from other people. He loves the kids, and he won't leave us, but he's not trying for anything more. Vespa, his wife, she wouldn't want that."

Charley nodded, touching the mouse's arm in reassurance. "I'll set everything up. Just drop him off here; I'll take care of him."

"Thank you, Charley-girl."

!#$%^&*()

Modo kept a solemn quiet as Throttle pulled into the garage. Lil' Hoss would refuse to let him ride anywhere on this particular day, without fail every year, so he had to hitch a ride with his bro. Throttle rolled to a stop, waiting until his friend stepped off before speaking. "If you don't want to stay here, she'd understand."

Modo arched an eyebrow. "You told?"

"You mad?"

Modo looked away. "Nah. What'd she say about it?"

"Nothing. Just said she'd take care of everything."

"What's that mean?"

"Don't know." Throttle glanced back at his bro. "We'll call if something comes up."

"Nothing like pounding some baddies for stress relief," Modo's joke fell flat even in his own ears. "Later, bro."

"Later." The tan mouse went out for patrol, a worried look back his only show of concern. He prayed he hadn't put Charley in a bad situation. He seriously doubted Modo could get drunk on simple Earth wine, but the memories that would be shaken loose by the alcohol could cause a violent reaction in his normally calm bro.

Modo headed into the building, listening for his Terran friend. "Charley-ma'am?"

"In here," came a faint answer from the kitchen. He headed that way, his nose twitching as something delicious teased his senses. He stopped still in surprise.

Charley was cooking?

The human girl had been trying to get them to try other Earth foods besides hot dogs, and while Vinnie was still holding out, the other two had been appreciating her efforts. His new favorite dishes were spread out on the kitchen table. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, spicy green beans, even hot honey-chicken wings. She was kneeling next to the stove, having a struggle with something. "Charley-ma'am?"

"Modo? You're early," she said, pulling back with a huff of effort as she used a towel to pull something out of the oven. He almost gaped in surprise as he saw what she'd been doing. "But-you said you hate baking?"

She smiled as she gently shook out the hot loaves of fresh bread. "Normally, yeah, its not my favorite thing in the world. But I think I can withstand the awful ordeal and make something for a friend. You ever had hot bread with butter and spice?"

"No."

"Then you sit right there," she pointed to the table. "You'll love this." She cut a few thick slices of bread, buttering one side and sprinkling it with cinnamon and brown sugar. The sugar melted into the butter from the heat as she carried it over to him. "Take a bite."

His mouth was already watering from the scent of it, and he took a large bite of the treat. His eye closed in pleasure. "That's real good, Charley-ma'am."

"I used to love eating this with my grandmother," she said. "She was the real cook of my family. Taught me everything I know about it, and these are her recipes. I'll be right back, okay? Go on ahead and eat if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Charley, I appreciate it." He watched her head to the basement stairs. The grey mouse was touched that she would be so thoughtful, but he really wasn't in the mood for company today. He wasn't about to be ungrateful for all her efforts, though. She came back a minute later, holding a dusty bottle. "What's that?"

"This," she said with a small embarrassed smile, "was the reason most of my grand-uncles ended up in prison. Back in the 1930's was Prohibition, when alcohol was illegal, and my grandfather and his brothers ran a huge smuggling ring bringing stuff over from Canada. This is from their old stock." She winked at him, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

He nodded, still a bit surprised. "You're giving it to me?"

"Nothing but the best for my friends," she said, wiping the bottle free of dust. The label was written in very old French. She pulled out a glass and popped the cork, pouring it half full. "Sorry I don't have any wineglasses, but this should do alright."

The girl placed it on the table and left the bottle by it, walking over to him and giving him a quick kiss to the cheek. "I'll be out back working on the truck, let me know if you need anything, okay?"

He gave a small, but genuine smile, his first in a whole week. "Thank you, Charley-ma'am."

#$%^&*()_

He'd been left to thoughts after that. Or rather, to his memories.

His beautiful Vespa. A sorrel-furred girl with long red hair, oh she could have had any mouse she wanted. Why she wanted him he would never understand. Clever and witty, and she loved exploring with him when they were younger. He ached for her every day since her death at the hands of the cruel aliens that had invaded their world.

He thought of their first date and smiled at the memory: how he had stammered and stuttered every time he tried to talk to her. Everything had gone wrong on that date, from his pants ripping to spilling their drinks all over her dress. He never knew what had made her decide to give him a second chance.

The memory of their first kiss made him close his eye against their innocence.

He thought of the day he purposed to her, how it had somehow all gone together perfectly for her. The pink seed flowers had been just right; the wine he'd bought was her favorite kind, the earring that had been in his family for generations looked perfect in her ear.

The memory of their wedding, the dancing and laughter, all his family together to celebrate their joy. He winced against the ache in his chest. It hurt so much. He could never have that happiness again, and it hurt.

He thought of when Vespa had snuck up behind him and whispered like a giggling child telling a secret that she was pregnant. They had spun around in circles, dizzy with elation. He couldn't wait to hold their baby, watch them grow, watch them learn and love and live.

The memory of holding her in his arms, the life gone from her and their unborn baby and the sound of his own voice screaming in grief-

Modo forced the image from his mind, locked it away or else he knew he would drown in that grief. He took deep breathes to push back the sobs that wanted to tear from his throat. He slammed back three glasses of the strong wine Charley had given him. He had to give this Earth wine some credit. It dulled the edge of his pain like the Martian wines never had. A futzed part of his brain wondered if she would mind sharing some more of this stuff.

The grey mouse thought back to happier times. Like when he'd asked Throttle and Vinnie to be his seconds at the wedding. The stunned looks on their faces had been priceless as the positions normally never went to anyone outside the groom's clan. But he'd been through so much with his bros, hell and fire and mortar. He truly couldn't think of any others he'd rather stand by his side. (Not to mention that all his other male relatives were far too young for the job, but he didn't tell them that.)

Vinnie and Throttle had loved her like their sister, much like they loved Charley now.

He knew Vespa would have liked Charley. They had a lot in common. Strong and brave and endlessly loyal. Fearing nothing, an almost reckless streak tempered with a healthy dose of common sense. Both were surprisingly artistic; where Vespa had loved to paint and sculpt, Charley created with metal. Modo knew down to his bones that they would have been best friends. He could almost see them putting their red heads together, plotting something devious for their boys.

Modo felt the sudden urge to go talk to Charley. Why, he didn't know, but somehow that just sounded like a really good idea. He got up from the kitchen table and headed to where he'd seen her head last, staggering a little as the ground decided to move. He frowned down at the floor, glaring it into submission, and found the mechanic coming in for the night. "Hey, Ch-Charley-miz, how's your night?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Fine so far. How's yours?"

He blinked, and suddenly they were on her couch. Well, he was laying on her couch, she was sitting by him. He looked up at her in confusion. "How'dy...How'd I...Yeah, how?"

Charley chuckled. "You started swaying, so I brought you over here. Is your head feeling any better?"

"Yuppers," he said with a nod. "Hey, you 'memberz when you brought over the tecky stuff and told us 'bout Jackie-boy?"

"The tequilla?" she clarified, absently stroking back the fur of his ear. "Yeah, I remember."

He looked up at her, a sad, wondering look on his face. "How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

He leaned into the kindness he could feel in her hand. "How'd you like guys again af'er wh Jackie did to you? He hurt ya bad, Charley-girl."

Charlene looked down a moment, then looked back at Modo. "I found some wonderful furballs that convinced me that living in the past would only make me unhappy. If I let what Jack did color my whole view of the world, then in a way, he would rule over me forever." She gave him a considering look, weighing the pros and cons of her next words before going ahead. "If you let what happened to Vespa make you stay alone for the rest of your life, then in a way, the Plutarkians have poisoned her memory for you. Would she have ever wanted you to be alone? Would she have wanted you to be unhappy?"

Modo felt tears leak from his eye but couldnt' find the strength to stop them. "No. She always said tha' when I smiled, she couldn't help bu' smile too. But its so hard, Charley-girl," he said, his voice achingly soft and sad. "Its so hard to let her go."

Charley bit her lip in thought. "You don't have to stop loving her, Modo. No one could ask you to do that. Keep her in your heart always. Just be willing to find room in your heart for another special person. Don't give up on that, okay Modo? Modo?" She sighed softly as he began to snore. "Poor Big Guy," she said, kissing his cheek as she pulled out a blanket to drape over him.

She called Throttle and Vincent to let them know that everything was alright before turning in to bed. The human found herself wondering if it would be any better for her grey-furred bro next year.

#$%^&*()

Hey guys! I have a poll on my profile, as I found myself curious about which chapter of my fic "The First" was the best for drama/angst. Please go vote and let me know!


	52. The First Training

I was reading an artilce the other day that facinated me. It described the actual psychological process of how women can train men to correct their behaviour, comparing it to animal training. Bad behaviour is your man trying to get attention, so ignore it. But consistently reward good behaviour, and watch your man do that behaviour more often. Of course, the methods used by various women depend of the relationship with the man.

But basically, a man spends almost his entire life being trained by the women around him. Neat, huh?

The First Training

She scowled at their retreating backs as she saw another giant hole in her garage doors as the Biker Mice tore out to go after another scheme of Limburger's. Charlene couldn't help but fume as bits of metal drifted down from the blast that had made a huge gaping hole in her work-bay's door. This wasn't the second or even the third time this had happened. Far from it. Her boys had a bad habit of destroying or blasting holes in just about everything non-living. Vinnie was especially known for punching holes in the walls when he was impatient**. It was getting to the point that at the local hardware store, the clerk had an order of spackle for the bros on 24 hour stand-by, just waiting by the door for them arrive.

_That's it. Enough is enough. I never thought I'd have to use Mom's advice, but desperate times call for desperate measures. _To think, she was actually going to have to start training grown men! Er, Mice.

The next day, after being sure that everyone was patched up, fed and watered, with the bikes all repaired and polished, she sat the trio down in the kitchen for a little talk. "Look guys, I know you all need to leave in a hurry when stuff goes down with Limburger. Really, I do. But it would only add, at most, one minute to your commute time to use a flipping door."

Vinnie had to object to that. "But we do use the doors!"

She shot him a dirty look. "I amend. It would only add one minute to your commute time to use a flipping door_** after you open it**_."

"But Charley-girl, every second counts when we're saving the city," Throttle pointed out.

"And every door you guys break, or wall you blow through, adds up and counts toward my growing amount of debt in house repairs," she growled. "Its getting beyond ridiculous. I am single-handedly paying for the drywall repairman's kids to go through college!"

Vinnie shook his head. "Its not just the timing, sweetheart, its about the style. A studly Mouse like me's got to make a statement when he leaves the building-"-

_Thwap!_

Vinnie blinked in shock. Throttle and Modo weren't much better off.

"You hit me," the white mouse said in shock.

"Yes."

"You hit me with a rolled up newspaper."

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"On the nose . . ."

"With the Sunday edition, to boot," Modo said in quiet suprise.

Charley just gave Vincent a look. "If you're going to insist on blowing holes in the walls, you have to learn not to blow through walls in the house. Or the garage, for that matter."

"But Charley"-

_Thwap!_

"But we have to-"-

_Thwap!_

"But sweetheart!"-

_Thwap! _"_Don't make me squirt you with water_. Because I will."

Vinnie paused, an almost blank look on his face as his brain fought to process all this. ". . . um . . . okay?"

Charley nodded in satisfaction. "Good. So, returning to the subject at hand- _Limburger's doing something in the city!"_

All three Mice moved toward the door, reaching out to grab the door knob. "What? ! Where? ! What's happening? ! Charley?"

Apparently Throttle and Modo could learn by observation. She smiled at them. "Good job, boys. False alarm. Here, have a cookie."

"Ooh, chocolate chip!"

* * *

** In 'Biker Knights of the Round Table, Part 1' (Season 3!), the opening scene starts with Modo and Throttle talking about a rather impatient Vincent that hasn't seen some aciton in a while. Vinnie had already punched three holes in the wall, all from needing something to vent his impatience and frustration out on. Modo just picks up a bucket of spackle that they have stashed right by the wall, apparently just for when this sort of thing happens.

If I were Charley, I'd be right ticked.


	53. The First Rules of the Bathroom

To dear Matt and Britt, you guys are so wonderful. To Lou, your story is awesome! Everyone, go check out the latest chapter of 'The First of Something Beautiful'.

A friend pointed out a mistake I made. **Miceaholic** wrote the story 'Oops!' If you haven't read it, you are really missing out, its hilarious! My apologies to Miceaholic and Icewind.

Thanks for all the support you guys have given me. *hugs*

On with the show!

The First Rules of the Bathroom

Charley usually loved it when Stoker and Rimfire came to visit. They could only come maybe once or twice every four months since the Stalker ship was in such high demand on Mars. Technically, these visits were only supposed to be for supply runs and gathering the info that the Bros could rustle up from Limburger. Of course, Stoker and Rimfire would also take this time to visit with their friends, catch up the news from Mars, and relax a bit from the war.

Their visits also tended to happen when some very..._interesting_ discussions took place.

The Martians and Charley were all sitting down to relax after a hot dinner. The guys were piled up in the living room to watch a new action movie when she sprung the need to talk on them. Charley was blushing red to the roots of her hair for this one. "Okay guys, I know you all love the showers and baths that you get to take here on Earth, since water's in such short supply on Mars, but we have to lay down some rules. Its getting a little dangerous around here," she shot Stoker a look before he could say anything, "and not in the good way."

"I'm still sorry about the soap," Rimfire said contritely, his ears drooping. "I had no idea it would be that slippery!"

"I know, Rimmy," the human said, patting his shoulder. "And that's actually rule number one; never leave wet soap on the floor, especially when you know Vinnie is about to come running through the door. I like suprises as much as the next girl, but having the Velocity Atrocity come crashing out of the upper story bathroom wall and land on the main floor's couch because he slipped on some soap is not how I want to find out the boys are home, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

Charley smiled at him. "Right. Now, rule number two: you all have five minutes to be naked. That's it."

"What!" "That's not long enough to even wash your hands!" "Oh come on, Charley-girl, it takes longer than that"-

"_You have five minutes to be naked when you're not actively taking a shower or in the bathtub!" _she said over their protests. "I happen to know that since you're all guys, you can actually do everything you need to do naked in three minutes, but I'll give you an extra two just in case. The reason for this one, I think you all know," she said with a blush towards Modo. The grey Martian blushed, but couldn't help his slightly cocky smirk as well.

A few weeks ago, Modo had been in the middle of a shower when the Quigly Scoreboard had been attacked by Limburger's goons. Greasepit had shot missles and rockets into the 'Board to try to drive the Mice out, and he had succeeded when Vinnie and Throttle had rode out to drive the henchmen away. Charley had been over to help repair the electrical wiring, so she gave extra cover fire with the bazooka Vinnie kept for just such occassions. Modo, upset and distracted by the artillery fire, had simply run out of the showers, jumped on Lil' Hoss, and went straight into battle.

While dripping wet and stark naked.

They eventually won, of course, and the boys had a long laugh over a brilliantly blushing Modo that raced back into the 'Board to get some clothing on. He'd almost run directly into Charley, who'd gotten quite the eyeful. This led to some teasing from Vinnie, until the mechanic had pointed out that this meant that Modo was the toughest of them all. He could go out to battle stark naked and still whip tail.

Modo had walked a little taller since that day.

"Now, rule number three," she sent all of them a stern look. "Do not. Blow dry. Your butt." At this, four Martians and one human all turned and looked at Vinnie.

He had the nerve to look insulted. "Hey, there is nothing wrong with using the hair dryers to get your fur dry!"

She send him a dirty look. "No, using them to get the rest of your body fur dry when you're here, that's fine. But using it on your butt, keep that at the Scoreboard! I do not want to walk into my bathroom knowing that the whole room is full of air that's been on your butt. I brush my teeth in there, for crying out loud!"

Stoker started laughing as the others started to look a bit green. They hadn't thought of it that way before. Vinnie just huffed in indignation. "No respect for a mouse around here, no respect at all," he muttered.

Charley ignored that and moved on. "Rule number four; if you're not going to clean the drains out after you use it, you are not allowed to use the hot tub! That poor janitor is still trying to figure out which one of the ball players has enough white body hair to choke off all the valves in the main tub." The human then looked at Throttle. "And don't think this is all on Vinnie, Mister Martian. Rule number five: Keep foaming soaps _out_ of the hot tub. Don't think for one minute I don't know about the Soapy Chewbacca incident."

Everyone else laughed as Throttle blushed bright red. His first time using the hot tub, he'd poured in a large amount of dish soap to help get the grease and dirt out of his fur after a battle with Greasepit. And Throttle had no way of knowing just how many bubblesh would be produced once he'd turned the jets on. Of course, he'd turned the jets on **after **he'd gotten in the water. He'd been completely covered in suds, with more soap, water, and bubbles pouring out all over the floor. The Mouse had tried to sneak out to rinse off in the showers and get his clothing, but had been spotted by a few late-night practicing players. Thus, a new urban legend was going the rounds with the Stadium's players about a soap-covered, furry, werewolf/Sasquatch running around the showers.

Six players and an assistant coach were threatening to quit out of fright.

She turned to Stoker. "And you, you-good lord, I don't even know how you even managed to do this, but rule number six: for the love of god, man, have some sense! You might be sweet with the ladies, but you cannot have girls over at the 'Board's hot tub!"

"What?" Throttle yelped in shock.

Four Martians immediately turned to look at their teacher in shock and some awe. "No way," Vinnie breathed. "You actually managed to get some girls over here?"

Stoker leaned back, his arms stretched out on the top of the sofa on either side of him, a proud smirk on his face. "When you got it, you got it. And when it comes to the girls," he chuckled, "I got it."

"How many were there?" Rimfire asked, his mouth open in awe.

"Don't encourage him!" Modo said in shock.

"Six girls," Charley snapped, "all of them young enough to be your daughters, you dirty old Mouse!"

"S-...six?" Vinnie squeaked. "Six girls in a hot tub? With you?"

"And they saw what you actually look like?" Throttle said in horror.

Stoker smiled. "Oh yeah. And they were still happy to be there."

Suddenly Vincent and Rimfire were on their knees before the older Mouse, bowing in supplication. "YOU ARE A GOD!" They bowed all the way to the floor, rising up to bow again. "A GOD, I SAY! TEACH US THY WAYS, WE ARE YOUR UNWORTHY STUDENTS!"

Throttle face-palmed, groaning in exasperation. Modo and Charley just exchanged looks, shaking their heads. Stoker simply waved a hand at the younger boys to stop. "Cut that out, boys. Besides," he smirked, "it will take many years of study and work to be great like me."

Modo glared. "You will not be teaching anyone, especially my nephew, how to be a randy pervert. And that's rule number seven."

* * *

Lol.


	54. The First Nighttime Call

Matt, Britt, Lou-*hugs you all*. You guys are wonderful! Merry Christmas, guys! And while its late, (shame on me!), GirlyGeek updated her awesome story, "Earth: The Final Battlefield". Many kudos to you hon!

And Happy Holidays to everyone!

The First Nighttime Call

_The Last Chance Garage, sometime around 2 AM_

BZZZT. BZZZT. BZZZT.

Charley stirred with great reluctance. Something was buzzing, ringing, and it wouldn't shut up. She groaned from her spot under the warm, soft covers, lifted her head from the inviting pillows, and sent out an arm to grope at her bedside table. Her hand smacked at the lamp, then her alarm clock, before finally landing on her cell phone. She pulled it back to her, trying to shift it under her ear.

The mechanic groaned softly as she had to move from her perfectly cozy warm spot to answer the phone. She clicked the talk button and said wearily, "Its 2 am, and I'm still sleeping. If this isn't a hot naked man with the most fantastic bike in the universe, I am not getting up."

"W-Wha-...ah...hold on," came the voice on the other end. There was a faint sound of a jingle then a rustle of clothing-

She could suddenly hear Throttle's voice in the background. His voice was groggy and thick with sleep as he spoke, "Vincent? What the hell-why are you taking your clothes off? And on the phone...aw bro, you know we can't afford those kind of phone calls. And is that really how you want to spend our one phone call? I thought we agreed to call Charley in the morning to bail us out."

"But its not!" The white mouse protested. "Its Charley on the line!"

On the other end of the line, Charley stared at the phone. "You guys are in prison again, aren't you?" She groaned in resignation. "What'd you do this time?"

Vinnie nervously answered, "Ah, hehe, funny story actually. See, we were out by the toy factory, you know the one that Fish-face's been sniffing around? Well, we were scoping it out and someone called the cops on us for traspassing-uh-oh, we woke the Big Guy."

Throttle's voice was rather irritated as he asked, "What's this 'we' business? You're the one on the phone with Charley."

Modo's cranky voice could be heard now. "Why, in the name of Mars, are you on the phone with Charley at 2 am in a prison cell with your pants off? ...wait. No. Don't answer that."

"She said she wouldn't wake up unless I was naked!"

There was a blank silence at their end, as Charley groaned softly, giving herself a face-palm.

"...okay bro, however you and Charley get your kicks is none of our business, but could you do that sort of thing in private?"

Charley couldn't take it anymore. "Vinnie, I'll come get you guys out in the morning when I can get the bail money, now unless something is on fire and threatening to kill someone, it can wait until morning!" She hung up the phone.

It rang again a minute later. Vinnie's voice could be heard sheepishly asking, "See babe, I found one of the toy race cars and brought it with us, and they let us have it in the cell and I was using my flares to change the treads on its tires-

She growled out, "VINNIE-"

He hurried to finish, "So, how bad is it that I accidently set it on fire and its currently loose in the police station? Is that threatening to kill someone or-"-

Throttle's voice was instantly alert. "WHAT? Vincent, you did what? Holy-Get up, you idiot, and find the fire extinguisher! Modo, wake up and call some of the cops in here! Vincent, hang up the phone"-Click.

She stared at her phone. The human sighed very softly, put her phone on the bedside table_-_

_You know what, they've got this. The fire department's coming and Vinnie's getting reamed by Modo and Throttle. They've got this._

-and got up from her soft, warm, perfectly comfortable bed to go the police station to be sure they were okay.

After all, friends like them only came along once in a lifetime. Better to keep them around, even when they annoy the hell out of her.

...she was still going to punch Vinnie for the phone call.

* * *

For every person that ever answered the phone at 'way too early'-o'clock and then got up to go help the guy that called.


	55. The First Trip to the Junkyard

To dear friends that help inspire me.

And to wonderful reviewers that help keep me going!

Enjoy.

The First Trip to the Junkyard

They were the bravest, baddest bikers Mars or the Milky Way Galaxy had ever seen. They had faced inflatable monsters and villians, and even Vinnie's attempts at cooking. But when it came time for these little outings with Charley-girl...

All three Martians quivered in their boots.

It honestly scared them, what happened to Charley when she stepped foot in the city's junkyard.

Now some junkyards have washers, dryers and refrigerators in them. Some junkyards even have broken planes, trains, automobiles and other miscellaneous every day household machines. Before she had met the infamous Biker Mice, Charlene Davidson had spent many a happy day hunting for parts in the city's junkyard, pulling out engines, drive shafts, combustion manifolds, even entire bike frames for her projects and repair work. She often treated trips to the junkyard like treasure hunting, and honestly enjoyed going through the many acres of material.

But due to the activities of the past three years, the junkyard on the outskirts of Chicago now had the debris from the dozens of battles between heroes and super powered villains.* There were priceless parts for laser cannons and turrets, fuel cells, ray guns, scientific experiments, transporter parts, military scrap; with the scraps of a few alien invasions thrown in to set the mood just right. Even the Thunderpipe, the red crusier spaceship that had brought her boys to Earth was hidden among the parts and peices.**

The junkyard had been surprisingly helpful in finding workable materials for their bikes, the Scoreboard's defenses, as well as finding scrap metals that were worth some serious money. After all , the Last Chance Garage's income couldn't pay for everything.*** Abandoned boxes of x-rays were processed for their silver. Gold was scrapped from computer and tv components, and some rather rare mixes of platinum and other heavy metals could be found to exchange for cash in the city. They had even found a large red ruby that had been used as a focal point for an alien weapon of Karbunkle's.

Now when Charley went out 'treasure hunting', it was worse than taking a woman shopping with a $1000 dollar gift card to her favorite store on Black Friday.

The moment she stepped out of the tow truck, it was like a completely different person inhabited her body. "Ohhhh, shiny!" Charley stated as she took in what was all around her.

Modo gave her a stern look from his seat on Lil' Hoss. "Now remember, Charley-ma'am, you promised us you'd behave this time."

She gazed lovingly at the piles of metal and wire, speaking almost absently, "Oh, yeah, sure Modo, I remember, I promised-_LOOK! They have the new laser parts in_!" Before the Mice knew what she was doing, she had clasped her hands together like she was praying, and took a dive, head first, into the biggest pile of broken down robots, ray-guns, and Winnebagos that they could see.

Somehow, defying all rational thought and the laws of nature, Charley was able to move through the scrap metal and devices like she was swimming. Every now and then, her head would pop up, only for her to show an even bigger smile than before, then she would dive beneath the surface of the debris again.

Vinnie gaped at the sight of her. "How...how is she doing that?"

Modo simply shook his head. "Do you really wanna know, bro?"

"...No."

After a bit of clanking, clunking, and sounds of a power saw revving, Charlene hopped out of the pile of goodies that surrounded her. She held aloft a laser cannon with a badly cracked casing that was bigger than she was, the mechanic grinning madly. "Guys, look! We can get this cheap and mount it on Throttle's bike!"

Vinnie shook his head from his spot on his beautiful red racer, his own knowledge of Martian motorcycle mechanics coming though. "The balance gyros couldn't compensate for that!" he called back to her.

She blinked in surprise, looking at the weapon again. "Oh right. Well, if we crack open the casing and pull out the laser crystals, re-shape the lenses for the focusing, maybe scale down the power cells for proper weight distribution..." she murmured on, hoisting the ray gun on her back before diving back into the piles of scrap.

Throttle just stared after her, his bike giving a concerned beep. "I swear bros, one of these days, she's going to pop out of those piles with a couple of laser turrets in her hands and start screaming, 'Fools! I Will Destroy You All!' "

Modo chuckled. "So long as she doesn't start ranting that we should 'tremble before her', I'm fine with it."

Originally, Charley hadn't had a problem going out 'junking' and looking for parts to help repair their bikes and weapons. But as more 'goodies' from the various villians had piled up in the junkyard, the more often the Martians had been called by the junkyard's salvage staff to come stop their human friend from doing something dangerous. Apparently, when Charley got around new high-tech scrap and equipment...

"_Guys! You're never gonna believe what I just found!" _her voice sounded in the distance._ "Its the Weathermeister's Weather Map!**** Think what we could do with this for entertainment at parties! How cool would it be to show up at a shin-dig and have lightning shoot out of your fingers_? **_Viva la Emperor Palpatine!"_**

...she would tend to go a little crazy.

Vinnie frowned. "I thought that thing burned up when we blew up that giant robot."

"Me too," said Modo. "Should we let her have that?"

"Um, guys?" Throttle said uneasily. "Maybe we should get that away from...uh-oh."

A sudden shadow appeared on the ground, and within seconds, the clear blue sky was suddenly flooded with black thick rainclouds that converged on Limburger Tower. Lightning flashed in thick yellow bolts, striking the building over and over, until the tower caught fire. In less than five minutes, the building was a smoking, smouldering ruin, and a faint cry of "My Tower!" could be heard on the breeze.

Suddenly, Charley's voice could be heard joyously shouting, "AND IT STILL WORKS! TAKE THAT, YOU ROTTEN FISH-FACE! HAHAHAHAHA!"

The Biker Mice from Mars gaped in horror. Vincent summed up their thoughts fairly well. "Okay, Charley's not allowed to have weather-altering devices anymore."

"Something else to add to the list of things she can't play with," Modo muttered. It was rather alarming how many things were on that list now...

Charley's entire tone changed, a mad glee ringing in her voice as she shouted, "**BOW BEFORE ME, YOU PITFUL VILLAINS! _MWAAAHAHAHAHA_**!"

Vinnie blanched. "Aw, man! Not the evil laughter!"

Throttle groaned. "Who's turn is it to take her new toy away from her?"

"Not mine! She almost singed my tail off when I tried to take that giant flame-thrower away last time," Modo said firmly, his hands cradling his tail.

Vinnie revved his bike as they went to go put down-er, _persuade_ Charley to part with her new toy. "I got to admit, bros, I'm starting to think we're a bad influence on her."

* * *

* Since the entire issue with Plutarkians is that they don't believe (or maybe don't even know how to) in recycling, they procede to invade and steal everyone else's stuff and resources. Thus, its stands to reason that all that gear would all have been thrown away or left to rot.

But seriously, where did all that stuff go? Think, we're talking about giant walking robots, huge laser cannons that had been mounted on the sides of Limburger Tower, hover-crafts, heliocopters, ray-guns of all sorts, even space-ships! In almost every episode, someting got blown up. Surely they didn't just leave all that valuable, dangerous stuff just lying around! It would have been hauled off and carted to the junkyard at the very least.

** Another little vanishing act of the show, and to my mind, the most notorious: WHERE THE HELL DID THE GIANT RED SPACESHIP GO? The Martian Thunderpipe, the ship that brought the BMFM's to Earth. They crashed it into the Quigly Scoreboard during a game. An entire stadium-sized crowd saw it. Then the next episode later, its just gone? Seriously? Come on! They had to put it somewhere, and a junkyard might have been their best bet to hide it.

*** For the sheer amount of groceries that just one athletic grown man goes through in a month, multiply that by 3, then add what a grown athletic woman eats in a month, and you get one hell of a grocery bill. Then add in home expenses (insurance, heat, water, electricity), business expenses, medical expenses, then parts and maitenance for the truck and the bikes...nuh-uh. Noooo way the Last Chance Garage made enough to cover those kinds of costs, not unless Charley kept steady at about 25-30 car/truck repairs per week. Scavenging for scrap would certainly help cover any deficits in their budget.

**** Season 1, episode 'Chill Zone', where a female villian (with a cheezy German accent, no offense to our German readers) could control the weather by sticking sunny or rainy or snowy, or even lightning stickers on a weather map. She was actually more bad-a## than that sounds, since she could call down lightning, snow storms, and even tornados with pin-point accuracy on her opponents.


	56. The First Flipside: Biology Lesson

Flipside: to see from another's point of veiw or angle, to turn the situation around on the other person

Because while a lot of these First's are from Charley's point of veiw, our dear Bikers have some interesting opinions on the subjects too. There won't be many of these, I think, but let me know if you think there are others I should pick for a Flipside.

The First's Flipside: Biology Lesson

In Modo's highly trained opinion, humans had totally gotten the evolutionary shaft.

Seriously, it was a marvel to the Martian Mice how humans had managed to dominate the food chain on their planet. Earth was a planet of extremes, with burning hot deserts to freezing cold tundras; rich decidious forests and lush jungles; huge amounts of fresh clean water and vast oceans so large and deep that they covered more than seventy percent of the planet. And depite the thousands of animal species that were so much faster or so much more deadly that lived on this planet; it was the race of creatures with no fangs, no claws, no venom, no wings, no scales or armor, no telepathy, barely any strength, and no natural resistance to...well, _anything_, that dominated the planet Earth.

Humans had no fur to keep them warm. Which astonished the Martians greatly, considering the shows on tv that had shown humans living in houses made out of ice. Ice! No Martian was crazy enough to live in a house of ice, and none ever had in all of their race's history. Yet humans, with no natural fur to even give them a tiny advantage, somehow made it work. Oh, they had lots of technological advancements to make it easier now, but Charley had told them that people had lived like that for thousands of years! Before the invention of heaters!

Their Charley-girl hated the cold, but she tolerated it well, often going out to work in freezing cold temperatures when she was called to tow in cars or trucks. Vinnie and Modo had learned the hard way, (read; getting grabbed by a shivering Charlene and hugged for warmth), that humans took some time to warm up from being cold. But it positively alarmed them the first time they had seen her skin turn white and then slightly blue from cold. Their fur naturally kept them pretty warm, and even in some of Chi-town's worst weather they only needed light jackets and gloves to keep them warm. Poor Charley girl had to bulk up in sweaters, gloves, scarves, mittens, sweat pants, thick socks, and boots to go out in the snow.

Modo had taken his Momma's lessons to heart and sewn Charley some thick flannel gloves and scarves to help keep her warm. Vinnie had ordered some military issue boots in her size from the base on Mars, and Rimfire had promised to bring them on his next run to Earth. Throttle had bought her some special earmuffs that had a small heating pack sewn into the lining.

Now, she could deal with the heat far better than they could, that was for sure. They would be shedding and sweating like no tomorrow, and she would be fine in a t-shirt and shorts while waving a paper fan. But while they could suffer from over heating due to their fur, she would get something called 'sunburn'. And it looked nasty, too. The only thing the Mice had as an equivalent was the burns they could get on their noses and inside their ears. That hurt pretty bad on its own; Vinnie had been known to shudder in horror whenever Charley had sunburn on her shoulders, arms, legs, and even her face. Red skin, blisters, even layers of skin peeling off like a snake shedding its skin; it looked really painful and really, really gross.** They were too nice to tell her that, though. But they did insist, _loudly_, that she put on her sunscreen and sunblock anytime they went to the beach or out to the park.

Besides the sunburn, what astonished them was that her skin was so thin! It couldn't keep anything out except water and dirt, and not even that for very long. Her skin lacerated so easily that it scared them when she so much as held a steak knife. There was prescious little tissue to keep a cut from going deep enough to hit an artery or vein. And the bruising, sweet Mother of Mars, it looked terrible. When a Mouse was hit and it bruised, it showed as a slightly darker patch through their fur. It hurt, of course, but it didn't look anything like a human bruise.

Human bruising looked like they should be dying. The first time the Biker Mice had gotten a look at one of the injuries Limburger's goons had inflicted on Charlene, it had horrified the trio. Charley's skin had turned red, brown, blue, purple, even a horrible shade of green that had made Modo panic and think that she'd contracted gangrene somehow. To think that this sort of thing was normal for her species was an ugly thought. To know that this was what happened when she hadn't even broken a bone or ruptured an organ, made them shudder.

Another little biological fact that they had found out that scared them silly for their girl: the Rule of Three. This is was the basic rule of survival odds for this planet, taught to them by Chef Andy. The Rule of Three boiled down to this: humans could go three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food. There were exceptions, of course, but that was a pretty constant rule for survival on this planet. On Mars, the three sentient species had the Rule of Five, nearly double the survival time of a human. To think that their girl was that fragile was a frightening thing.

Her immune system wasn't anything to be proud of either. What was a simple case of wet-lung on Mars, and treated with a single shot to the arm, her people would have called it similar to tuberculosis. What they called scale-itch, and treated with a simple shampoo treatment, her people would have called it similar to shingles. Toxins worked incredibly well on her species, the same with poisons. Most Martian species could handle and purge out stuff that would kill a human in minutes. Not to mention, the sheer amount of things the human body was allergic to was astonishing! How this species got anything done during the spring or fall, the Mice couldn't really figure out.

All this, and she had the nerve to be offended when they insisted that she stay out of the fighting because she could get hurt.

That wasn't them being chauvanistic so much as it was fact. The honest truth was that Throttle, Modo, and Vincent could take much more damage than she could and still keep going. They could heal faster than she could. An injury that would annoy the hell out of them for a month or two, could cripple her for life or even kill her. Martian Mice could regrow nerves, and even a severed spinal cord could be healed with enough time and patience. It had shocked them silent when they found out that humans couldn't do anything like that.

The only thing humans really had going for them was their brains. And their girl Charley had that in spades. Hell, if she had been trained on Mars, all three Mice agreed, she would have been the most intelligent person in the galaxy. The ability to adapt, to think and plan and improvise, was all that had given humans any advantage on their planet.

Throttle, Modo, and Vincent loved their Charley-girl, and were determined that they would defend and protect their girl from all the harm they could. After all, she tried so hard to take care of them. They could do no less to return the favor.

* * *

** If you had never seen skin peeling from a sunburn before, sit there and tell me it wouldn't gross you out. How do you think the boys felt seeing that?


	57. The First Protective Instinct

Inspired by GirlyGeek's story, 'Earth: The Final Battlefeild'. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter, hon!

The First Protective Instinct

Vincent Van Wham knew that Charley was angry. He could feel the waves of her irritation even from behind him as he carried her away from the fighting to get her somewhere safe. His tail held her steady even as she sat stiffly on his bike, her hands just barley holding onto his shoulders as she huffed in anger as he raced down the streets.

She just didn't understand.

It could be so frustrating dealing with Charlene when she got in a mood about them not letting her go fight, but by Mars, _she just didn't understand!_

Vinnie supposed that he couldnt' really blame her. She came from a time of relative peace and prosperity in her country and world. Granted, there were wars happening on this planet, but not here, not where she grew up. She hadn't seen the world crumble around her, hadn't seen entire cities eaten by the machines and invaders, hadn't seen entire populations disappear or worse.

She had no idea how valuable she was, no idea what she meant to them. She just didn't understand.

The Plutarkians had been silently invading Mars for years before open war broke out. And their methods had been insidiously quiet. The real estate schemes were the most obvious ploys in their silent initial stages. The real evil had already been started the moment the rotten fish had decided to invade their planet, and the evil doctor Karbunkle was their first strike.

Karbunkle was infamous the galaxy over for his genius, not only in mechanics and chemistry, but for his bio-terrorism as well. He had applied it to the populations of Mars long before villians or weapons had ever been sent to the planet. Rampaging diseases and viruses were too obvious, too blatent that something was dreadfully wrong. Something more subtle was used. A vial or two of his creations in the water supply for most of the cities was all it would take. For Mars, he had used something hideously simple and disarming, but no less effective as any of his other creations of war and suffering.

It was a form of birth control.

That's all it was, if taken in proper dosages. But Karbunkle had mutated its effects, ramping it up to obscene levels. The Mice population's birth rates had been holding steady for decades, but about 10 years before the war broke out, the birth rates had started dropping dramatically. After Karbunkle's 'treatment', less than 2/3rds of the female population of Mice was fertile at any given time. And for what was then an unknown reason, the male to female ratio had gone completely out of whack. What had been 1 boy to 1 girl for millenia was now 5 boys to 3 girls. Fewer girls were being born.

Fewer girls meant fewer mothers.

Fewer mothers meant fewer children of any kind.

Fewer children spelled _extinction_.

The Rats and Sand Raiders denied it feircely, claiming that their allies hadn't done it to them, but the Mice knew better. The Freedom Fighters had been keeping an eye out for female Rats and Raiders for years now, and had seen less and less of the other races' females with each passing year. It was to the point that no one had seen a female Rat in more than 3 years now, and a female Raider hadn't been seen in 5 years. Either they had all made it off-world somehow, or...

Things looked very grim for Mars just by that one attack by Karbunkle. Oh, the doctors had figured out how to reverse it, it wasn't that hard, but the damage had been already done. War had reduced the population to less than 1/200th what it had been. Added to that was that the Plutarkians had been deliberately targetting females and children, not just for the slave trade either. Less than 1/3 of the Martian Mice population was female. Every single female had to produce at least 3 children just to keep their population stable, let alone repopulate their planet. It would be generations of careful marriages and genetic tracking to be sure they didn't end up hopelessly inbred.

So many of their women were taken from them. So many of their women had suffered, had been targetted, had been taken by the Plutarkians. Half of their world's brightest minds, half of their world's beauty, kindness, and grace had been stolen from them. The female Mice had always been loved and appreciated by their males. Now, women and girls on Mars were beyond precious, to be protected and cared for at all costs. Charlene didn't know anything about that, and all three of his bros had sworn that she would never suffer the same.

Vinnie shook his head even as his tail gently squeezed Charley's waist in a silent apology. She just didn't understand what she meant to them, their brave girl that cared for them and helped them so much. She just didn't understand what hope she gave them, just by being there.

Throttle would argue with her later, give her some logical thing that she was too valuable for them to risk in battle. She was their supply line and main medic, far too strategically important to put on the line, blah, blah, blah. But he and his bros knew the real reason.

To the Biker Mice, the expression "women and children first" was beyond a way of life. It was instinct.

* * *

...and seriously, I can totally see Karbunkle doing something like this. Maybe this explains why there were almost no other women in the show? Really, just Carbine and Harley, a bare mention on Primer (Rimfire's fraternal twin sister), and only one episode with Modo's Momma? Where are all the other girls?


	58. The First Flipside Rules of the Bathroom

Flipside: to see from another's point of veiw or angle, to turn the situation around on the other person

Please check out 'To Be a Mouse' by DragonChild157. A most excellent adventure that spans both Earth and Mars!

Enjoy.

The First Flipside: Rules of the Bathroom

Charley stumbled into the bathroom of the downstairs garage at 3:40 in the morning, just barely shaking off the urge to fall asleep. It had been a long, hard night of catching up to all the work she'd had to let lie as she'd helped her bros on another crazy adventure. The mechanic wanted nothing more than to get cleaned up and into her nice soft bed to sleep for about a day or two. As she finished washing her hands of the oil and grease from working on so many cars overnight, she caught sight of a note of folded paper that had been taped to the mirror. The mechanic recognized Throttle's hand-writing, and pulled it off the glass so she could read it.

_'Dear Charley-girl,_

_Just to let you know, we really appreciate all the things you get for us and do for us. We know that you don't have to go out of your way to do all the things you do for us, and we're thankful for it, we really are. Adn we know that you let us get away with a lot of stuff that we probably shouldn't, or that would at least get us a tail-whippin' from Modo's Momma._

_But babe, we have got to iron out a few things with you. Its nothing big, just a few rules of the bathroom for you too_-'

Her eyebrows went up at this. Just what did they think was so objectionable in her bathroom?

'-_and we would really appreciate it if you would follow them._

_First: Charley, we know you're a girl. We love you anyway.'_ (She strongly suspected Vinnie inspired that comment somehow.) '_But please, for the love of all things sacred, put the box of feminine products **back under the sink**! No one needs to see that just lying around on the counter. Or on the back of the commode, for that matter._

_Second: For crying out loud, they're just towels! Does it really matter if they're color coordinated? Do they really need to match no matter what? They get covered in oil and gunk all the same, so really, the color all ends up being that weird grey anyway. Please stop being OCD about your towels, okay?_

_Third: Its been bugging the life out of Modo, please, clean out your hair brush. Its positively disturbing to see that much hair stuck to it. It looks like any minute its going to get up off the brush and crawl away. And considering the little things in your attic, and the kind of villians we know, that's not too far fetched._

_Fourth: Please stop buying scented shampoo. You really don't need it. It reeks like perfume, and you know we can't stand that stuff. Its just waaaay too strong on you. We can smell you coming from three blocks away. _

_Fifth: Please stop writting those little reminders to brush our teeth on the mirrors so that the steam from the showers makes it show up. While all three of us thinks its a neat trick, its really starting to get old. _

_Sixth: We are allowed to leave the seat up at the Scoreboard. We know you spend time with us there, but there are entire stalls of restrooms for girls just one flight of stairs down the hall. Go be the toilet seat officer down there, not in your bros' hangout._

_Seventh and final: If you even have the slightest hint of suspiscion that we are coming over to the Garage, please refrain from trying to take a shower. The sheer amount of times Vinnie has walked in on you is getting ridiculous. And while Modo and I are quite willing to slap him around for it, he really cannot take another hit from that frying pan you keep by the bathroom door anymore. He only has so many brain cells left, Charley-girl, he really can't afford to loose them too._

_Sincerely, Throttle_

_P.S. Oh, and don't think we don't know about all the times you've walked into the mens locker rooms to drop off our clothes while we were taking a shower. As much as we appreciate you bringing us fresh laundry, we'd really rather you wait until we've at least got a towel on before you bring that stuff in.'_

With a raging blush, Charley nodded to herself as she headed up the stairs to her bedroom.


	59. The First Flipside: Storm

Please say a prayer for all those in Southern Indiana and Northern Kentucky of USA that were affected by the multiple tornados that tore through the area. If you want to help, please check out the Red Cross's website to find out how, or if you want to donate to the relief efforts.

The First Flipside: Storm

Vinnie's head lolled against the back of the couch, arms stretched out in relaxation. And sweet Mother of Mars, but this stuffed peice of soft cotton and wood was comfortable! No bossy general chasing them after a battle, no reports to fill out for that annoying Sergeant Scabbard, it was awesome. "Charley-girl, you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," the human girl teased from the kitchen.

"Just the ones that bring him food," Throttle said with a smirk from his place on the recliner. He looooved this chair. This had to be up there with the top ten greatest human inventions. His eyes closed as he breathed out slowly, unwinding from their second run-in with Limburger to date. A long shower had done wonders to relax them already, but Charley had promised a hot meal and some more of her favorite movies. None of them had been able to resist that offer.

What Martian in their right mind would?

Hot running water, clean towels, even using water to get clean! With Mars being a desert planet, it was a luxury that only the richest on Mars had ever been able to afford for well over 200 years. Fresh food (even if it was alien) that was served up hot and tasty; unlike the carefully rationed canned meat and dried vegetables that the supply company and cafeteria cooks had doled out to the many soldiers, Freedom Fighters, and refugees that had filled every base on Mars. A movie, something that hadn't been made on Mars in more than 20 years. Hell, he could barely remember the name of any of the older Martian movies or shows since so many of them had been lost in the war.*

Compared to life on Mars, the boys were living in Paradise.

Modo used his tail to tap Vinnie's shoulder as he walked in from the kitchen carrying most of the food, making the younger mouse spring up to help set it all out. Throttle immediately pitched in, clearing the small coffe table of stuff and placing it all off to the side of the couch so it wouldn't get lost. After the ripping the grey mouse had given them about their manners in front of Charley, they had been scrambling to behave ever since. The girl walked slowly in, her arms loaded with root beer for them and a few cream sodas for her. Throttle took the majority of them from her arms with a smile as everything was finally ready for dinner.

Vinnie flipped the tv on as he dug into his first dog of the night, barely paying attention to the screen as he savored the first bite. Mmm, ketchup, mustard, relish, that saurkraut stuff, onions, it was all so good. (He had no idea what any of it was made of, and prefered to live in blissful ignorance. Gods forbid that he was actually eating anything healthy.) The other boys didn't see it either, (though Throttle would make a point to remember it for the rest of their time on Earth), but Charley had noticed the white scrolling letters across the bottom of the screen. She frowned as it went on and then sighed, getting up from the couch.

"We forget somethin', Miss Charley?" Modo asked as he saw her go.

"Nah, just need to get something from my room," she replied. She came back a few minutes later with some flashlights, a small radio, and some extra blankets.

Throttle frowned at the sight, "Charley, you don't have to camp out on the floor, there's plenty of room on the couch." He immediately moved to stand and give her his spot, as he was raised to always give a lady preference when sitting. But he couldn't help but wonder what she was getting bunker supplies out for. According to their info, Limburger didn't know their current whereabouts, and for all that the alien fish was blatent in his attempts to destroy Chicago, he wasn't so obvious as to bring tanks down to the Last Chance to blow it away.

"Oh, its not for that," she said. "I just want to be ready in case"-

_**KRA-KA-BOOOOOOM!**_

_Of all fracking times to be wrong! _Throttle thought as he dove down to the floor. He heard Charley scream as Modo immediately pulled her down for cover. The leader was going through a half dozen plans in his mind to get them all out of there, to find out what was going on, to figure out why the bikes weren't responding to such an obvious attack, oh hells, what if the bikes were taken out by the hit!

The lights of the garage flickered and died, the tv blanking out. There was nothing but the sound of harsh breathing for a moment, all three mice tensed in the dark. Charley's soft voice sounded shockingly loud as she asked quietly, "Um, who's got me?"

"Me," Modo said answered. He was crouched over Miss Charley, sheilding her from any potential attack with his body. His arms were tensed, his good eye scanning around, straining to see in the darkness if any of Limburger's henchmen were trying to sneak in the garage. He felt the girl tremble a bit and moved up a bit to look at her. "You hurt, Miss Charley?"

"No," she replied shakily. "You just startled me. Modo, honey? You can let me up now."

"Not a good idea," Throttle whispered tensely. "We don't know if that was the one bomb or first in a wave." For all its sonic volume, it couldn't have hit the garage or they would have surely noticed fire and heat already. Now he had to find out how far away the turrets or cannons were that had fired the shot, could they out-manuever them? Were they robots or manned by villains? How quickly could they get to the bikes and how far would they need to be away before they were out of range? Could they get to the Scoreboard? Would it be safe? Did they have anywhere else to go to regroup? Could Charley find them a place?

All this flashed through the tan mouse's mind in the blink of an eye, his multi-tasking abilities honed by years of needing quick reactions in the battle feild.

"I don't fully recognize the sound pattern, but it doesn't sound like scutters or hill types," Vinnie said, a serious tone Charley had never heard before in his voice. He wasn't too familiar with Fish-lips' arsenal yet. The white mouse was willing to bet that the Plutarkian was using standard invasion weaponry, but the fish could be actually using his brain and using Earth military tech to disguise his own equipment for now. If so, that could put a huge wrench in the Martians' knowledge of the enemy's weapons and how to defend against them. He went on, "Could be an EMP-based"-

White brilliant light suddenly flashed from outside the windows. It lit the room enough for the human girl to see the faces of her three friends staring out the window with shocked looks of mingled horror and fright.

_The nukes! _Modo thought in terror. _Holy Mars and Remus, the fish was insane! Using nuclear weapons already, I thought he was trying to buy up the land first!_ He could remember when the few fertile feilds and plains of Mars had been flash-incinerated by the nuclear weapons of the invading aliens, when they had scorched the soil so badly, poisoned it with radiation so deeply that nothing could grow there ever again. Not here, not this beautiful world too, no-!

All Vincent could think of was the charred remains amid the ashes of the cites the Plutarkians had bombed, the terrible piles of ash that each meant a personhad stood and died there, and _oh gods, they were going to be __little piles of ash_-!

Throttle's mind almost froze in shock, but even then, when he was certain it was the end and he couldnt' make his feet move, a part of his brain was still going, still churning out some form of a plan in desperation, because he couldn't have failed his bros like this, he couldn't have, he couldn't-!

Modo's arms contracted around Charley, and he pressed his face into her shoulder as the light ended. The garage shook with the force of the sonic wave that followed two seconds later.

When it finally died away, there was total stillness for a full minute before anyone spoke. "Everyone still alive?" Throttle asked, his voice shaking as he panted, his heart pounding madly. _It...it missed? Mis-fired somehow? How were they not dead? What had happened? Was the garage sheilded from radiation somehow?_

"Yeah," Vinnie said, not much better off than his bro. "Modo, how're you and Charley?"

"I'm fine," he said softly, pushing up from her slightly. "Miss Charley?"

"Alright, enough's enough," her voice rang out suprisingly loud in the dark. "Let me up, right now."

Was she crazy? Did she not know what was going on out there, it would be a warzone, they had to get her out, get to safety-"Charley, its not safe"-

"Do you trust me?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" she said.

She had kept them a secret from her government, had helped hide them, feed and clothe them. But she was a civilian, unschooled in war and carnage. Could they trust her to guide them now? Throttle nodded. A hesitant yes came from the mice.

"Then trust me to know what to do," she said. "Throttle, can you find those flashlights I had?"

"I've got one by me," Vinnie said.

"Turn it on and hand it over," she said firmly. The bright beam of light was startling, but a welcome sight as the white mouse searched and found his human friend in the darkness. She looked fine, no injuries that he could see. He gave over the flashlight as Modo moved to let her up. "Okay guys, I'll be right back"-

"Where are you going?"

"To the fuse box," she said. "I'll try and get the power turned back on, but I'm betting the hit took out the power lines down the street. I've got a backup generator, but i'd rather not use it unless we absolutely have too. I won't be gone five minutes, okay?" She sent the light across the room looking for the other devices, spotting the rest by the edge of the coffe table. She handed them out before she left, promising to be careful as she went.

None of them turned the lights on, not wanting to give their positions away to anyone that might be outside the garage doors. They strained their ears to hear if any sirens were approaching, any first responders to the scene of the explosion, but there was quiet for as far as they could hear. Nothing but silence filled the garage as the mice strained to hear her footsteps. An odd thrumming noise suddenly sounded against the roof of the building, all three tensing as it drowned out her footfalls. It sounded like something constantly hitting the ceiling, and lots of it, and it was driving Modo crazy. Was it some kind of weapon? Or maybe debris? "Has it been five minutes yet?" he said anxiously.

"No, just three," Throttle replied, his tail twitching restlessly as he mentally counted the seconds she was gone. What was taking her so long? Could she have been attacked? Or was he just being paranoid?

"You think she's okay by herself?" Vinnie asked softly. What if some of Limburger's men were trying to sneak into the building right now? Were the back doors locked? What about those upstairs windows, were they secure? Was Charley okay?

"She said for us to trust her," the leader said. "So we trust her to be okay."

"I really hate when you say things like that," the young mouse huffed under his breath.

Quiet seconds ticked by. Suddenly a small bright light cut through the dark and she was back with them. "Sorry, but its the lines down the way that are out. We should be fine for now, but I'd rather we moved this upstairs."

"Upstairs? Are you nuts?" Vinnie said in open-mouthed shock. It would be much easier for an enemy to spot them from the upper floor, and it would take longer for them to reach their bikes or find an exit! What the goons tried to get in while they were upstairs and suddenly attacked?

"Trust me," she stressed, "I promise you, this will be okay. Follow me, alright? You all need to see this to believe it." She turned and headed for the stairs to the bedrooms, hearing very nervous mice follow after her.

She brought them to her room, pushing open the door and motioning them inside. All three hesitantly walked in behind her, crowding around her bed in the smaller room. Throttle scanned over the room, looking for any cover they could use incase a sniper tried to take them out from here. _The bed would work for a short time, but matresses are crap for cover against lasers, they catch fire way too quick. Now if we pulled over the dressers, that would make much better sheilding. _She moved to the wall and pulled back a curtain that covered the door to her small balcony that faced the city, revealing-

"A glass door?" Throttle said in horror. "Charley, are you crazy? You can't stay here in the middle of"-

The sight of brilliant white lighting arching across the midnight sky lit the room. The Martian mice froze in place, staring outside. It took a moment to figure out what was happening. Thick black and grey clouds had filled the sky, and there was water...water was falling from the sky. From...the freaking...sky? How in the world was that happening...oh. "By my grey furred momma," Modo breathed softly. "Its raining."

Rain was pouring down, splashing against the roof and flooding the gutters, spilling off to the ground. Smaller bolts of lightning were shooting down around the city, making the clouds visable as black and purple smudges in the sky. Thunder was echoing everywhere, never fading as the storm raged on.

"I-I've never seen it rain before," Vinnie said in wonder. "I think I was three the last time it happened on Mars."_ Oh Mother of Mars. Was this what it had been like before the war? Was this actual weather? It used to do this on Mars all the time? Wow!_

"I was five," Throttle breathed, sitting down on her bed to watch the storm and take it all in. "I don't remember anything like this."

"That's Chicago weather for you," Charley said quietly. "Sometimes it just lets loose on you like this. I love storm watching, so I put in the door so I could watch all I wanted and not get wet." She smiled at them, "I'll go get the rest of dinner and bring it up here, okay? Might as well enjoy the show."

"Thank you, Miss Charley, ma'am," Modo said as he sat down on the carpeted floor, eye glued to the storm outside. The mice watched in dazed awe as streaks of light lit the sky like fireworks, the thunder strong enough to shake the large doors downstairs. The wind picked up and started to howl outside, tossing the clouds across the eastern half of the city and sending them down to the southeast. They could see huge thunderhead clouds, the lightning inside the massive formations letting them be seen like it was still daylight.

Charley brought up the dogs and sodas, Vinnie quickly heading down to get the blankets and radio she had taken to them earlier. Everyone settled in for the night, a comfortable silence only broken by the sound of the thunder. It would be hours before the Mice fell asleep, listening to the forgotten sound of rain.

* * *

*If you were invading a planet to steal everything they had, wouldn't you take their entertainment to make some money off it? I've no doubt that one of the first things the Plutarkians had done was steal all Martian entertainment venues and claim them as their own to sell at a huge profit throughout the greater galaxy, then destroy the original films, books, scrolls, internet, computer, or national archives.


	60. The First Greatest Human Invention

To Britt and Matt: All's well. See you soon!

To everyone that's reveiwed over this story's duration: THANK YOU!

There is a new, totally awesome story in the M section right now. 'Follow Me Back Home' by XxStarlitSkyxX. Go read it. Right now. Seriously, go.

The First Greatest Human Invention

Mars was the home to three technologically advanced races, there was no dispute about that. Granted, most of that technology was destroyed now, but they could reproduce and rebuild it if they had the resources. They'd once had medical machines that had eradicated nearly all cancers and harmful mutations in DNA, preventing birth defects at the source; they'd had machines that could build entire houses, foundations and all, in a matter of days; they still had the most advanced A.I. programmed vehicles in the galaxy.

Yet somehow, no one on Mars had ever discovered what was surely Earth's single greatest invention in the history of the human species.

Duct tape.

It was surely the most useful invention humanity had, and nothing Charley said could change Throttle or Modo's minds. Duct tape was scientifically proven to be much stronger than the sum of its simple parts of canvas thread, plastic tape, and medium grade glue. When applied properly together, those simple ingredients could do amazing things.

18 stips could support the weight of a small car suspended in midair. The tape could water-proof pipes, vents, and walls. It could hold a damaged bike together in battle almost better than flex-metal. Its been used in car repair, hammock repair, and even submarine repair. People could make clothes with it, and had on many occassions. It might not be the most sterile option, but it could even bandage wounds if you were in dire need.

It could also do something Throttle and Modo had been trying to do consistently for years.

It could shut Vinnie up.

Even better: it could shut Vinnie up AND keep him out of their fur. Currently, the Velocity Atrocity was muzzled and muffled up on one of the Scoreboard's many I-beams that supported the structure. And when they said he was up, indeed he was: he was currently duct taped to the beam, facing the floor...

...about forty feet up in the air.

Throttle and Modo both had looks of perfect serenity on their faces as they finally got to watch their movie in peace and quiet.

* * *

Silence is golden, but Duct Tape is silver...


	61. The First Camping Trip

Thank you everyone! You all are awesome!

A new author that I recommend, who's work is improving with each story posted, is LadyDaisys. Check her out, people! And hey! Welcome to our new international writers! I noticed some authors from Italy (MayaPatch and Sette Lupe) and Germany (Andrea O'Down) making an appearance, yay! More love for our furry Bros! Lol. I truly wish I could speak/read those languages fluently; I suppose I'll just have to make do with Google Translate.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

The First Camping Trip

Summer had finally eased into autumn, and cooler temperatures had settled over the city of Chicago. After the last battle with Limburger, it was very apparent that Limburger Tower wasn't going to be rebuilt for at least two months. It had been a pretty stressful couple of months for everyone, so Charley figured that they were all due for a little vacation. She wanted to show her bros more of the world she loved so much, and offered to take them out camping around Lake Michigan's beautiful parks. The trio of Martians had enthusiastically agreed. After all, compared to a desert, Earth was teeming with life. They were pretty eager to see more of it.

Of course, this entire trip would have gone much smoother if the Mice had actually listened to Charley. She'd had plenty of training for outdoor trips in her time with the Girl Scouts, and on the many vacations taken with her family. She'd bought the supplies, including the makings for s'mores, and had been really looking forward to the trip. The four then rode their bikes out to the forest park and had set up camp in a nice shady spot.

Well, that had been the plan, anyway.

Vinnie had completely destroyed a tent while trying to set it up. Vincent, thinking that if they just melted the pipes and stakes of the tent's frame to be a bit more bendable, had accidently set it and the coverings on fire when he'd used his flares to do so. He'd jerked back in surprise at how fast the plastic had gone up in flames, tripped over a log bench, and had shattered a gas lamp in his landing.

Needless to say, the resultling explosion had singed everyone a bit.

Of course, that wasn't the end of their troubles. Throttle had then gathered up a bunch of pine wood to make their campfire with, instead of the other wood Charley had pointed out to him. The pine's sticky sap sent up thick clouds of tarry smoke when they tried to light a fire, (using their laser pistols, of course). The smoke had nearly driven them out of their camp site completely before Charley had managed to shovel enough dirt over it to smother the flames.

Modo had found some wild mushrooms not far from their camp later that day. Wanting to surprise everyone, (especially Charley, since she seemed to be so stressed out all of a sudden), he'd diced them up with his pocket knife to cook in their dinner. It was only by the grace of God that Charley had spotted the unfamiliar fungus before anyone had eaten it. Well, except for Modo. He'd gotten three heaping spoonfuls of the mildly poisonous mushrooms. The poor grey Martian was up for the rest of the night: when he wasn't wracked with muscle cramps, sweats, and shivering, he was puking his stomach out.

With one tent destroyed, the Martians had all piled into the second tent with Charley. 'Packed in like sardines' was an understatement. The Mice could barely move, and it had finally gotten so bad that Charley had pulled out her sleeping bag to sleep outside on the ground by the fire. Three hours into the night, Throttle had figured out that the slithering thing on his leg wasn't his tail. Or Modo or Vincent's. A quick grab of a flashlight, followed by a quick grab of what turned out to be a rather large copperhead* snake...

...and much screaming ensued. The trio scrambled to get out of the tent, ripping most of it and then burning the rest when Modo had tried to shoot at the snake with his arm cannon. The snake managed to get away completely unharmed. The others were not so lucky. Burns and more singes covered the Mice when all was said and done. They finally got some sleep an hour later as they slept under the stars with Charley.

The next morning had started out rather well. Charley had fixed a good breakfast, mapped out a trail they could ride their bikes on, and pointed out a few streams and ponds that they could go swimming in. With so few people this deep in the woods, it would be safe for them to take off their helmets, so the boys were looking forward to it. They'd eagerly set off to take in a little nature.

It seemed like nature had the same idea about them. Oh, they'd had lots of fun on the trails, racing and calling, just having fun. (Granted, Modo was going much slower than normal, since his stomach was still bothering him.) Then they'd reached the swimming pond. Charley had changed in a different area near the small dock that had been set up, (carefully tucking her clothes off the ground and up in the branches of a tree to keep safe from bugs and other critters). The Bros had just tossed their jeans and various clothing to the ground before pulling on their swim trunks and jumping in. About four hours later, three very wet Martians had come out of the pond to get lunch, when they found that their clothing was gone. Luckily, the bikes could trace the lost items since Throttle's vest, Modo's chest armor, and Vinnie's bandoleers had tracers sewn into the lining, so they weren't hard to find.

Getting the clothing away from the rabid pack of racoons that had taken them was a totally different story. Charley had ended up using every last bandage and bit of gauze from the first aid kits patching the boys up from the many scratches, scraps, gouges, and bites the trio had received in the ensuing battle.

And for the sake of Vincent's dwindling dignity, there shall only be the quick mention of the mistaken identity of a large bunch of poison ivy** leaves as substitute toilet paper. In the poor Mouse's defense, it was 3 a.m. when it happened, so it could be excused as an honest mistake. That still didn't stop the others from laughing.

A few hours later, Charlene figured it would be a good idea to go on and head home.

"Sweet Mother of Mars," Vinnie groaned, scratching his hip irritably as he poked at a bandage on his thigh. "What a trip."

"No kidding," Modo mumbled, his entire body aching in exhaustion. He still felt dizzy and nauseous from those mushrooms he'd eaten. "I never want to go camping on this planet ever again."

"Aw guys, don't be like that. After all, this has been the craziest camping trip I've ever even heard of. I promise, its not normally like this!" Charley said.

They were currently packing their gear up. Charley and Modo were cleaning up the camp, making sure that they didn't leave anything the wildlife could get. Throttle had put the last flashlight in his pack and noticed something that was black, white and furry off to the side of the clearing they were in.

Charley had finished burying some left over bones in the ground when she heard Throttle call out, "Hey bros, look what I found." She groaned and walked towards her friend, who had his back turned. "What is it this time, Throttle, and please don't tell me its that patch of poison ivy."

"No, look, I found a cat," he said as the Mouse turned around. He smiled as he looked down at a black and white 'cat' in his arms. Unlike Vincent, Throttle actually liked Earth cats, and thought they were affectionate creatures. He had been known to feed a few of the wild ones that lived around the Quigly Stadium. "I wonder how this little guy got all the way out here. Think we could take him to an animal shelter?"

Charley's eyes widened and she quickly stepped back. "Th-Throttle, that's not a cat! Please put it down, nice and slow." She kept slowly backing away from the tan Mouse.

The leader blinked in confusion and walked forward. "What's wrong, it just a cat?" The 'cat's' tail twitched, and Charley couldn't help it; she bolted out of the area, screaming about a skunk***. Throttle frowned in concern and slowly held the animal away from his face. "What's a skunk?" he asked the 'cat'; later, he would have sworn it had wagged its tail and grinned evilly.

The Martian got a very bad feeling. "Uh-Oh."

Charley ran back towards the bikes, grabbing her bag and throwing in on her blue and white ride. "Alright guys, time to go!" she said quickly, her moves rushed.

"Huh?"

"What's the big rush, Charley?" Modo asked.

"The big rush is the finale to the worst camping trip ever. Throttle just picked up a-"

"_**SWEET MOTHER OF MARS!" **_

"...skunk," she finished. All three could suddenly hear the tan Mouse begin to shout something in Martian that Charlene was pretty sure was the longest stream of profanity she'd ever heard. The mechanic sighed as she gazed skyward. "Why? Why does no one ever listen to me?" Shaking her head, she slowly got off her bike. "I really, really do not want to do this, but we better go get him." With Vinnie and Modo exchanging nervous looks behind her, they went to go collect their leader.

When they got back to the camp, they saw Throttle surrounded by a green mist as he coughed loudly and rubbed his eyes. Vinnie caught one whiff of the skunk scent and he suddenly jerked backwards with a cry, clutching onto his nose while his eyes watered. "Holy Mother-! That smells worse that Limburger! I didn't think _ANYTHING_ smelled worse than a Plutarkian!"

Poor Modo took one breath and immediately began puking again.

Charley tucked her shirt over half of her face as she spoke. "Oh good lord, Throttle, what the hell were you thinking picking up a skunk?"

"(cough, cough) I thought it was a cat," Throttle grumbled, and continued to try to rub the burning out from around his bionic eyes.

"You thought it was a cat? Seriously? Do you go around picking up any stray cat you find?" She shook her head. "Great. First Vinnie blows up the camp, then you almost burn down camp, then Modo eats the funky mushrooms, then a snake, then we get clothes-robbed by racoons, then the poison ivy, now a skunk. What's next? You guys gonna play fetch with a wolf?" she said sarcastically.

Throttle glared, then just hung his head in defeat. "You know what, I think my 'give-a-crap' is busted. Just tell me how to get rid of this stink."

"Yes, please," Modo said weakly from his spot kneeling on the ground.

Charley rolled her eyes. "The only thing that gets rid of skunk stink is tomato juice. We'll have to buy a few gallons of it when we get back to town. And quite frankly, I have no idea how we're going to get all the tomato out of your fur."

A groan of "Aw, man," was all Throttle replied before he began walking towards his bike. "How does this always happen to us?"

Vinnie just sighed quietly as they all prepared to leave. "And Carbine wonders why we never ask to go on leave for vacation."

* * *

For those that are unfamiliar with the North American wildlife:

* Copperhead: _**Agkistrodon contortrix,**_a venomous snake around three feet (or one meter) long with a broze/copper colored head, that will seek out warm places to hibernate during fall and winter. Their bite typically isn't fatal, but it hurts like hell and can kill you if you're bitten more than once.

** Poison Ivy: _**Toxicodendron radicans,**_a poisonous North American plant that is well known for its production of urushiol, a clear liquid compound found within the sap of the plant that causes an intensely itching, or painful rash on contact with skin (that sometimes produces blisters as well). ...poor Vinnie...

*** Skunk: _**Musteloidea Mephitidae**_, a small, cat-sized mammal with predominately black fur with a white stripe down its head, back, and tail, well known for being able to produce (and squirt up to three meters) a chemical fluid that emits a strong, foul odor to defend itself from predators. (The smell has been described as a boiling mixture of rotten eggs, garlic, and burned rubber, combined with vomit.) To give you a better idea of how bad that smell is, this scent can be used, with almost 100% success, to drive off full-grown bears. The actual fluid spray can cause irritation and even temporary blindness and is sufficiently powerful to be detected by a human nose up to a mile downwind.

...so imagine how the Bikers, with their much stronger sense of smell, must be suffering.


	62. The First Time Charley Scared the Bros

To the lady that first inspired me to write anything about our furry heros; Morning! She is the Original Biker Writer on FF net, and the one I credit the most for my drive to write BMFM. She hasn't posted anything in a while, but maybe if she gets a review boost for her stories, it might inspire her to come back.

Go to the very first pages of BMFM fiction here, and start reading her stuff. You'll thank me! And hey, she even does her own fanart! It looks gorgeous, and if I'm not mistaken, you should be able to find a link (or address, wtih FF net being so screwy...) in her profile.

Here's hoping we see you again, Morning!

The First Time Charley Scared The Bros...

Charley sighed as she walked in the kitchen door. The Bros looked up from playing their card game at the kitchen table, (which had somehow miraculously survived past the third hand of poker). Modo frowned in concern and asked, "Something wrong, Charley-girl?"

"Oh, nothing. I just ran into one of my ex's earlier today."

Vinnie winced, "Ooh. That's gotta suck, babe."

She shrugged. "It wasn't much drama. I just put the tow truck in reverse and ran over him again."

As she left for the living room, three Mice were left staring at her exit, all their fur standing on end, jaws hanging open, and eyes huge in fright. Throttle never took his bionic eyes off her departing form as he said quietly to Vincent, "You are either the craziest or bravest Mouse I know."

"I'm voting crazy," Modo said in a tiny, frightened voice.

Vincent swallowed hard, looking distinctly dazed. "Wanna know the really scary part? ...I thought it was kinda hot."

* * *

CHALLENGE! CHALLENGE! CHALLENGE! CHALLENGE! CHALLENGE!

I have another challenge for all our talented writers out there. Be sure to post this one under your own accounts, I want to see everyone receive the credit they're due for their work! One condition for the challenge: in the summary, please mention that this is in response to the challenge. Thanks!

The Great Romance Challenge:

It might not be Valentine's Day, but romance never goes out of season! Pick one of these couples and write anything you want for their romance. A one-shot, short story, epic story! Its all up to you! Pick whatever part of the romance you want too; from how they met, the first kiss, or when they introduce them to the parents. Any part of their relationship is up for grabs.

The Pairings Are!

Throttle/Carbine (Long distance relationships CAN work! Keep hope alive!)

Charley/Vincent (The classics.)

Harley/Vincent (What was lost is finally found...*sighs dreamily*)

Modo/Carbine (Hey, it could happen!)

Modo/Harley (Things change, and if Vinnie was unavailable...)

Modo/Charley (*grins* It really could happen, lol!)

Throttle/Harley (I can see this one working, I really can.)

Throttle/Charley (My personal favorite.)

Vincent/Carbine (Only one person I know ever tried this, and she made it work. WE MISS YOU, SEWERSLIDER!)

Stoker/Harley (He finally wins the fight for her hand from Vinnie, could it last into something for the ages?)

Stoker/Charley (The old rogue and a fiesty mechanic...sparks could fly!)

Stoker/Modo's Momma (Take this one however you want; no one ever said an older lady Mouse can't be a cougar...)

Rimfire/Charley (*grins* Why can I see this happening so easily?)

Rimfire/Carbine (Hey, if a girl gets too lonely...)

Rimfire/Harley (You never know where love might take you...)

Mace/Harely (Stockholm Syndrome, anyone?)

Mace/Charley (...it could happen?)

Boy/Boy pairings are allowed to, whatever floats your boat. I really hope to see some of the more unusual pairings, be they traditional or not. Take a chance, have some fun!


	63. The First WakeUp Call

Due to my finals in college, I've had very..._very _little sleep for the last three weeks. Anatomy classes are murder to study for, as they are cumulative, and for this class, covered the ENTIRE HUMAN BODY. All of it. The whole shebang. From top to bottom, anterior to posterior, every bone, major blood vessel, organ system (and what they do, chemicals they produce, disease they commonly get, every single hormone that affects them...), the names of every single muscle in the body...

My brain...frying like an egg...and that's just the one class. Three more after that, god help me.

Naturally, being so exhausted made me a little hard to wake up. My family found a solution.

It involved bagpipes.

...I've sworn to kill at least three of them.

The First Wake-up Call

Charley's eye twitched as she stared at the door to the Scoreboard hide out of her Biker bros. She'd pleaded and begged to get them to agree to help her restock and organize the garage this weekend. Vinnie had promised to show up bright and early that morning, with the others to follow later. It was now two in the afternoon, and no one had showed up all damn day. They didn't even have Limburger as an excuse, since they'd taken the Tower out a bare week ago.

She hoisted the instrument that was slung around her shoulder and waist up a bit higher, used her foot to open the door, and walked in. Rimfire blinked up at her from the couch, a crushed alarm clock on the floor. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, glanced at his watch, then blanched. "Uh-oh. Oh man, I'm sorry, Miss Charley. I think-" he looked down at the pieces of the electric clock and winced, "ok, I know I'm the reason they didnt' get up on time. I swear I didn't mean to break it! I think I just, er, sorta, reacted? When it went off? I must have crushed it and went back to sleep. I'll pay to replace, I promise!"

She gave him a look, then sighed. "Its alright, so long as they get moving now. You go on and head out, I'll get them up."

The young Martian moved to get out of her way, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Miss Charley, what on this earth is _that_ thing?"

"What, this?" Charley's faux-innocent act didn't fool him for a minute and with a chuckle she threw the majority of the contraption over her shoulder, one tube still in her hand as she glanced at Rimfire sidelong. "What do you think it is?"

"Apart from some freak accident involving the bizarre hybrid of a tablecloth and a pipe factory explosion," he shook his head, still unable to look away from the creation still held over one shoulder, "I haven't got the foggiest. What is it, and where'd you get it from?"

"Its a family heirloom," she said proudly. "This is a traditional instrument going back around a thousand years, if I'm not mistaken. One of my many-times-removed ancestors brought it over from a country called Scotland, across the Atlantic ocean. Now," she claimed nonchalantly before the edge of a grin peeped into life on her lips and she took a deep breath, "listen and learn Rimmy, my boy."

With that she placed the end of the pipe she held between her lips and blew hard; next second, as he clapped his hands over his ears at the shrieking, droning wail that emitted from the inflated bladder of cloth draped over Charley's shoulder, Rimfire was left to wonder exactly what she was doing and how she could call such a terrible noise music. _And it looks like I'm not the only one either_; even in the few seconds the mechanic had been generating such a hellish cacophony Rimfire was easily able to see doors being flung open and all three Mice blearily peering into the morning sun, trying to shut off the row that had woken them up at such an ungodly hour of the afternoon.

Through his hands were over his ears the young Martian was certain that most of the shouts being directed at the musician were a lot less than complimentary as he couldn't quite lip-read at this range. Granted, Charley wouldn't have understood them anyway, as all of them were in fine Martian, but Rimfire couldn't help a scandalized look on his face at some of those words. Before he could think too much on the subject however Charley had stopped the noise her instrument produced, removed the mouthpiece from between her lips and addressed the Biker trio without fear as she callled her demands to where they were still trying to collect their bearings after being so violently awakened.

"Until Vincent Van Wham is out here, fully dressed and ready to turn in a hard day's work at the garage…" there was a sudden sinister edge to her smile at she took in the pipe once more, shouting around it as there was a collective gasp of breath from her unwilling audience, "…here I play!"

Rimfire laughed, he honestly didn't have a choice in that matter as it was either laugh at the look on their faces or cry at the horrific noise in his ears.

It was a great irony that, when faced with a very pressing need to get a job done, the Mice that were universally considered the laziest and least soldier-like in all of Mars' war effort could mount the appropriate response with an efficiency and alacrity that would have turned the American Army green with envy. Because of this collective need to restore the peace and save both their eardrums and chances of a lie-in, it came as no surprise to Rimfire when, no more than four minutes after Charley made her demands, the bathroom door was thrust open. Vinnie was literally thrown out the door, stumbling to a halt before turning and directing a bale glare at the wooden portal that had just been slammed behind him. Despite himself, Rimfire was forced to bite down on a smile as the taller, stronger Mouse stalked towards the two of them, face like thunder as opposed to his normal energy despite the sleep that still clung to his eyelids. He tried to say something but-

He was cut off as Charley burst into laughter, her strange instrument letting out a wheezing gurgle as it slipped off her shoulder to the floor where it began deflating as its owner tried and failed to control her mirth. "The look on your face was **_priceless_**," she managed to choke out over her helpless laughter. Rimfire had to look away to hide his own grin from his friend's hang-dog expression, "You, you gotta _warn_ someone before you come out with something like that Vinnie, oh that's a classic!"

"I will get you for this, I swear it, Charley," the white Mouse promised, his gaze unusually direct as he stared at the smaller girl who crouched over, still chuckling, as she packed up the originator of that terrible noise. "My bros are a pack of treacherous bastards and I hate them all. They're gonna get it, I promise," he stated in a perfect deadpan before his almost-emotionless stare switched targets and sought to nail Charley to the floor, "And I'll stab that thing as well while I'm at it. That was the cruelest thing I've ever heard! What the heck was that thing? Where'd you get it and what the hell is it called – I need to give it a name when I mount its carcass on my wall."

She simply smiled. "Don't worry about it. So long as you keep your word about showing up on time, you'll never see it again. That goes double for you two!" she called down the hall to their rooms. A small thump and a larger crash let her know that they'd got the message. "As for what this is, its a small set of bagpipes."

Vinnie almost said something else, when her words registered. "Wait. _'Small' _bagpipes? You mean they come in bigger sizes?" his voice rang with horror.

The human gave an evil grin. "I've got a bigger set at home. So I'll see you in, what, ten minutes at the garage?"

"Yes, ma'am! There in ten, no, there in five! On my way!" Vinnie shouted, running out the door for his bike.

Rimfire just look at the smiling girl. "You're a very evil person, you know that?"

She chuckled. "Only when I'm running late."

* * *

To all my friends, thank you for all your support! And I am LOVING the responses that you all have posted for the Great Romance Challenge! Keep them coming, folks, and have fun!

Have a great summery, everybody!


	64. Please Read!

Sorry folks, this is not an update just yet.

This is a plea.

Have you all heard about what's going on with this site? Some stories with a rating of M are getting yanked off the site, with no warning or word to the authors! The site's moderators believe that they are fully enforcing a code of conduct, but seriously? Shouldn't the authors be given fair warning and a chance to either pull the stories by themselves, or adjust the content to suit the guidelines? Some of these stories have been works in progress for months, even years!

This letter has been posted by other authors in other fandoms, so now I'm bringing it here. Please help us! There's a petition going around on the forums, and a website that has a petition there too. (Just take out the spaces to make it work.)

www . change petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net

Now, the Letter:

**Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.**

**Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.**

**For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.**

**It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.**

**If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.**

**While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.**

**For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.**

* * *

**Hey Guys! The Scholar here, and I have an update on the petition. I need to call for your help again, everyone!**

**_June 23rd_, there will be an official _Black Out._ Authors will not log in, read, or review stories. Those who do not have accounts are also affected by FF's decisions too. Please participate and spread the news! If enough authors take part in this event, FF will know we mean business.**

**SPREAD THE WORD!**

**Also, if you haven't already, visit the following website and join the petition:**

**www. change petitions/ fanfiction- net- stop- the- destruction -of -fanfiction- net Copy and paste this into all your story updates, communities and forums.**

**Thanks everyone, for your time. Maybe if we work together, we can get some real changes on this site!**

A real update should be on Monday.


	65. The First Example of Murphey's Law

Thank you everyone that has ever read or reviewed my story. You all are wonderful.

The First Example of Murphey's Law*

Drums pounded their heavy beat through the thick alien jungle. Torches lit the night at the base of the smoking volcano, the small villiage in the midst of a wild celebration. Their prayers would be answered! A worthy sacrifice had arrived from the gods, in a brillaint flash of light!

The alien female that had fallen from the sky had facinated their high priest, and they had immediately began to prepare the struggling girl for that night's events. The three furry males had looked mighty tasty, and they were now tied over by the pit fires. The cooks were already sharpening their knives for the feast.

Soon the drums rumbled out a faster beat, the girl was dragged into the wooden cage,a dn they began their ascent up the volcano!

Charlene glared at the trio behind her for all she was worth, shouting down from the cage she was in, being carried up the mountain by several scantily clad natives. "I knew it, I knew this would happen! From the day I met you three, I just knew this would happen!"

Throttle sent her a look from where he was tied to a post along with his two friends. He shouted sarcastically back, "You knew that we would be sent from Limburger Tower by transporter to some back-water planet where we would be captured by natives and you would be sacrificed to their volcano god? While we were cooked for dinner? Really?"

As she was being carried farther up the mountain, they could faintly hear her shout back a disgruntled, "YES! BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MY LIFE WORKS! MURPHEY'S LAW OF PERPETUAL BAD LUCK!"

Vinnie glanced at his bros. "So, does that mean that this is all _her _fault?"

"Yep," Throttle nodded.

"Sure thing," Modo agreed. "She even admitted it."

"Good," Vincent said as he finished sawing through the rope with the rock clutched in his tail's coils. "So lets go tell her that."

* * *

*Murphey's Law: A commonly held veiw that states that 'whatever can possibly go wrong, will go wrong.' You can imagine my surprise when I found out that it is also called the 'Unofficial Fourth Law of Thermodynamics,' (thermodynamics: laws of how the universe works).

One of the authors with the finest grasp of Murphey's Law as it applies to our beloved bros, Spades24, with the story 'Scars'. Go check it out, and pack the tissues, you will cry.


	66. The First Fishing Trip

Greetings, everyone! I hope all in the Northern Hemisphere are having a good summer, and those in the Southern Hemisphere are having a fine winter. Thanks everyone, for being so kind as to read/review my collection of stories, you all are awesome!

Recommended Reading: xxStarlitSkyxx has two new stories out! 'Together on Mars', which is a sequel to 'Follow Me Back Home', and very awesome, please check it out! And the newest story is 'When I Fall', and its already got me completely hooked.

Thanks!

The First Fishing Trip

It was the perfect end to a rotten day.

Modo and his nephew Rimfire were floating comfortably on Lake Michigan, seated in a small motorboat that Miss Charley had found for them to use. They had borrowed her dad's old fishing rods and tackle box, too. They had headed out for the lake, despite the late hour, and had baited and set their lines. Now there was nothing to do but wait for a bite and just chill out, (despite the obvious difference in bait for the fish, everything else had been relatively the same as fishing on Mars). Nothing like a relaxing fishing trip out on the water after a long 37 hours of being shot at, blown up, chased down, and generally annoyed.

Modo, Throttle, Vincent, and Rimfire had managed foil the plans of the alien Stalkers, and it had taken all freaking day to do it! The Stalkers were an infamous alien race that had hunted sentient beings across the galaxy, searching for the best of each species they came across to hunt as sport. The Biker Mice and Rimfire were declared the finest Martian Mice of their species, and the hunters had approached Limburger* for an alien hunting license to try and take out the Mice.

Rimfire had crashed his ship into the Scoreboard trying to escape the Stalkers, not knowing that his uncle Modo was on Earth. They'd had a happy reunion despite the alien hunting game going on, and had now finally got the chance to really catch up with each other. Charley, Throttle, and Vincent had decided to get some actual sleep before taking on the enormous tasks of repairing the Scoreboard, salvaging Rimfire's wrecked ship for parts and weaponry, and upgrading the Stalker ship to fly with controls a Mouse or human could use. (Throttle and Vinnie had nearly had to _sedate _Charley to drag her away from the new shiny 'toys': and only threatening to ship them straight back to Mars if she didn't get some sleep was all that made her walk away from the two spaceships.)

The uncle and nephew were now out on the lake in early morning hours, talking quietly so as to not scare the fish. They were catching up with everything, from what was happening on Mars to how things were going on Earth. Modo was greatly relieved to hear that his Momma was still doing well, and she was still giving most of the Freedom Fighters all kinds of hell. Sadly, Rimfire's fraternal twin sister Primer** was still missing, and they'd had no word on her whereabouts. Rimfire told his uncle about how the Plutarkian forces on Mars were hitting quite a few stumbling blocks now that the Biker Mice were cutting off their main supply line from Earth.

Rimfire also told Modo about all the hot girls that were currently his age on base. Modo had arched an eyebrow as he went over with his nephew about how to treat those hot girls. The older Martian had blushed bright red as he went on to ask if Rimfire knew what to do with them, a question which embarassed both of them. Rimfire claimed that this entire conversation was unnesecary, especially since Stoker had already given Rimfire 'the Talk.'

Modo spent almost two hours trying to undo as much of that psychological scarring as possible.

After that, all was calm. They had a few peaceful minutes of checking their lines, pulling out some fresh root beers from the cooler, and generally relaxing back into their seats.

Of course, we are talking about a Biker Mouse, and a Biker Mouse in Training. BMFM does not equal quiet, no matter how much they like fishing.

As was made evident when Modo asked if Rimfire had brought the grenades.

Rimfire grinned, brings out all kinds of weapons that go 'boom' to have a little revenge on the fish.

Six sticks of dynamite, four grenades, and eleven pounds of C4 later, they were leading the boats of the very angry Lake Michigan Coast Guard on a merry chase that lasted for several hours. Modo had finally radioed his bike for help after the boat's engine had started to sputter, running out of gas. Lil' Hoss had to use the water ski appendages Charlene had built to help them escape, snatching the Martians from the water and blowing up the little boat in the process.

All in all, a very good day for the uncle and nephew.

* * *

* For some unknown reason, the Stalkers seemed to think that Limburger had the authority to grant that license. Its possible that they thought that with the Plutarkians being such successful invaders, that Limburger's presence implied that he was already in control of the city. Why else would they even bother asking for a hunting license unless they didn't want to anger the Plutarkians' Space Fleet?

**Primer is a cannon character, (see episodes "Once Upon A Time On Mars, Parts 1, 2, 3", they can be found on Youtube), and is Rimfire's fraternal twin sister. The strange part is, we only see her in these three episodes, and she's almost never mentioned again in the entire series. We never know if she's been killed, kidnapped, missing, or whatever. So I figured it was best to just have her listed as MIA, (Missing In Action).


	67. The First Misunderstanding

Over...700...reviews...*_faints_*!

*_Recovers, bows to the floor, prostrating myself before you all_*

You all are amazing. Wonderful. Awe-inspiring. Thank you so much!

Recommended Reading: Tashana Ambrosia's story, 'I Might Need Your Help'. A very, very awesome Vinnie/Charley romp, with Vinnie so perfectly done that it gave me chills. I can't wait to see the next part, which will feature Charley with a different bro! GO READ IT!

The First Misunderstanding

It was another windy winter day in Chicago. The city's streets were busy with traffic; people were bustling about their business; Limburger was already getting the cheapest construction company in the city to rebuild his tower. The Martians and Charley were enjoying their day off with a football game marathon over at the Scoreboard, with an eventual movie of Charley's pick to be watched...er, sometime that day. Stoker and Rimfire were still visiting before being called back to Mars, and were enjoying Earth's hospitality.

Inside the 'Board, Charley 'hmph'-ed as she sat down beside Stoker at the table. He was sitting with his feet propped up on the table, drinking a cold root beer as the Bros whooped and hollered from the 'Board's living room as they watched the latest game. She grabbed a cream soda, taking a firm swig before saying, "I can't believe that mouse."

"Hmm?" Stoker cocked an eyebrow. "Which one? No, wait, wait. Why do I bother asking; what'd Vinnie do now?"

She found a wry grin at his humor before answering. "I just came back from the bathroom and passed that poor janitor having a full-out panic attack at the sight of the men's shower. The shower floor is _covered _in mud. And I wish I was exaggerating when I say that, but it's almost half an inch deep in there! _Why _can't that mouse clean up after himself? I think I'm going to have to have some training with him about this."

Stoker chuckled. "Oh sweetheart, older women than you have tried to get that Mouse to do chores of his own free will for years now. I don't think you're gonna do it on your first try."

The girl shot him a look. "Maybe they just didn't have the right incentives."

He looked at her over the rim of his root beer bottle. "There's just about nothing they haven't tried, and that includes Modo's Momma."

She arced an eyebrow at the challenge. "Oh really? We'll see about that."

Charley got up from her seat and walked over to the couch, but this time, her walk was a hint slower. She slightly exaggerated the sway of her hips, subconsciously drawing Vinnie's eye to her. (Stoker elbowed Throttle and his tail tapped Modo and Rimfire to get them to watch the show.) The girl bent over to pick up a stray root beer bottle that had escaped the recycling bin, and that got the white Mouse's full attention on her. She gave him a small smile, then continued on towards him.

The human girl sat on the low table in front of the couch, facing Vincent. She leaned across the couch seat, one finger reaching out to turn his face to hers to look in his eyes, with a sweet, soft smile on her face. Her voice slid into the 'sexy' range enough to rival Salma Hyeck, a bit husky, low, and soft. "Vinnie," she said, her fingers brushing his jaw as she gently looked at him, "there's something I want you to do for me. I want you to do it real slow. And I want you to let me watch while you do it."

No one said a word, barely able to believe their ears.

Stoker was gaping at her nerve.

Poor Rimfire couldn't handle it, nearly fainting from the innuendo.

Blushes appeared in every set of cheeks but the white Mouse's.

Pretty much 99% of the world had shut down for Vincent Van Wham. The only 1% he was aware of was Charley. He was frozen in shock at her daring...and her very, very sexy voice. A hot red blush slowly formed on his face, and he found his voice as he said quickly, "I'll go stretch," and he was suddenly gone, racing up the stairs to Charley's room.

His intentions were made clear when his bandana and green bandoliers went flying over his shoulder. Inside her room, he appeared to be having a fight with his jeans and boots as the door slammed shut.

For a moment, there was utter silence. Then...

...Charley blinked in shock, then her look turned to worry. "Uh-oh."

A half-second later, Stoker burst out laughing, slapping his knee in glee. Modo and Rimfire stared, not quite understanding what had just happened.

"Huh?" Throttle said in bewilderment at the goings-on. "Charley-girl, what in the world was all that about?"

She had the grace to blush. "I think he took that the wrong way. I was trying to trick him into cleaning out the muck he left in the shower."

"In-(haha-)incentive, huh?" Stoker gasped out through his laughter. "Doll, if I'd known that was what you meant, _I _would have gone and cleaned the shower! (Hahaha!) Good luck explaining that little bit of misunderstanding!"


	68. The First Medication

This is a tie-in to 'The First Biology Lesson'. My sister wanted to find out how the nine cases of semi-overdose went. I didn't make it to nine, but I certainly had fun with it!

To everyone that's supported me, thank you! I could never do this without you all!

The First Medication

Charley had worked hard to find supplies of medicine that would consistantly work on them, and for the most part she had succeeded.

Except in the painkiller department. Most over the counter medication was either too weak to take any effect or wore off too quickly. Thus, Charlene had been forced to use some of the strongest stuff she could get her hands on. Martian Mice could metabolize drugs much faster than a human could, so they had to take much more than the recommended dosage of nearly everything. But after those first few times of taking the medicines, they would suddenly stop working. It seemed like their systems treated Earth medication like a vaccine; after the initial few doses, it stopped working on them altogether.

Thus, the testing for pain medication had led to some very interesting conversations over the years.

* * *

Perscription Strength Tylenol

"Oh, no worries, he made it here just fine. So...how much did you give him for the headache?" Modo asked over the phone.

"Six pills in one go. I was too scared to give him more," Charley admitted. "Its a blood thinner. Too much would thin his blood so much that it would start to deplete the oxygen supply to his brain."

"Ah. That explains it." The grey mouse called out the rest of the Scoreboard. "Don't worry, Vin, its supposed to make him like that!"

She could hear a muffled voice shout back, "What?! Its _supposed _to make him go running naked through the bleacher seats singing 'O Canada' at the top of his lungs?!"

* * *

Loritab

A groggy Vincent woke up in his hammock at the Scoreboard. He looked around, grinned proudly, and announced to the room, "Broke my arm and I'm still awesome! See? I told you guys I was good to drive home!"

A rather cranky Throttle answered back from his bed, "You flick-tail, I drove, you just sat in the passenger seat of Charley's truck and steered with a paper plate!"

* * *

Morphine

"I'm glad you're doing better," Charley said as Modo carefully steered his bike into the garage. "I was worried that the morphine wouldn't work. How's your leg?"

The Martian smiled as he gingerly dismounted, rolling his broken leg to prevent any weight from going on it. "Doing a lot better, Charley-girl."

"I'm happy to hear that," she said, walking over to check on his bike. She reached up to the windsheild and paused a moment. "Oh Modo?"

"Yeah, Charley-girl?"

"You have a police ticket on your bike's windsheild, did you know that?"

"Huh? No, that's news to me."

"You don't remember how you got it?"

Modo blinked in confusion, trying to remember. "No, not at all."

"Oh. If that's the case, then I think we're all going to have a hell of a time figuring out why you're being fined for what's on the ticket. It says 'found naked in tree.'"

"...uh-oh."

* * *

Medical grade Heroin

A bewildered Charley hung up the phone. "I just got a phone call that said Vinnie's been banned from the zoo."

Throttle and Modo spoke in shocked unison. "Again?"

* * *

Of course, their adventures with the Martian-grade medication that Stoker had brought over had its own ups and downs too.

Maxril

The communicator in Stoker's helmet chimed as he, Modo, and Throttle cruised the city's streets. He tapped the side of his helmet and answered, "Hello?"

"Stoker, what exactly did you give Vinnie last night?"

"Charley, that you? Oh, nothing much, just one of the pills Doc sent with me, why?"

"...let me put it this way. Remember when he went outside to get some air last night? Apparently, he carried a broom outside and swept the street for his entire walk to and from the grocery store. Manuelo said that Vinnie claimed that he was in the cast of 'Mary Poppins' and he was practicing his scene with the chimney sweeps."

There was a moment of incredulous silence from the three mice, and then they all broke out in uncontrolled laughter. "...holy hot-seats! This is the greatest stuff ever!" Stoker laughed. "Tell us he got it on film!"

Charlene growled menacingly. "Oh, Manuelo got more than that. You want to know what else Vinnie did last night? He emptied an entire bag of those cheese fish-shaped crackers in one of the store aisle's and rolled around yelling the theme song to Jaws while he tried to eat them.

"And just this morning, I saw Vinnie go back into the store, this time in a chicken costume. He bought every single pack of eggs in the store and said to the cashier that he just wanted his babies back."

Stoker, Modo, and Throttle were now pulled over on the side of the highway, laughing too hard to drive.

The mechanic huffed in aggrivation. "Guess what? Vinnie's still there. And that, gentlemen, is why _you two _are going to go get him, and _I _am going on vacation."

* * *

Packirpun

The communicator buzzed, and with a tap, Throttle answered from his helmet on the highway. "Hello?"

"Um, bros?"

"Yeah, Vin, what's up?"

"Uh, I was kinda hoping you could tell me. I'm here in your bed with something like 50 plastic lawn flamingos in the bed and all over the 'Board. What the hell?"

Throttle replied, "You said they were your minions of evil that protected you from horny squids. I don't know where you thought the horny squids were coming from, but I honestly didn't want to know."

The white mouse was silent for a long minute. "...that's it. I swear to all that's holy, I am never taking one of Stoker's pain-pills ever again!"

* * *

*grins* Its good to be back.


	69. The First Mispronunciation

Hey guys! Sorry its been so long, I'm right smack in the middle of finals for the next two weeks in school.

This one...is naughty. I had this exact conversation with a friend in class yesterday, god bless him, he's from Venezuela and had never heard the term before. It was just too funny not to share.

Hope you all enjoy!

The First Mispronunciation

English is not the Biker Mice from Mars' first language.

Charlene knows this. They're from another planet! Of course they didn't grow up speaking English. They learned from the various radio and television programs that made the electronic trip across space from Earth to Mars.

Now, if the average person never laid eyes on them, but listened to the Bros talk, one could understand how that person might swear on a stack of Bibles that the trio were surely born and bred in America. They had almost no accent to speak of. Their English was so good, you could almost trace the accents of different American cities from each Martian.

But English is still not their native language. There were still a lot of words they didn't quite understand, more in the written word than the spoken. Throttle, in particular, was always so embarrassed when he had to hand something over to her to read it when he didn't recognize a word. Modo tended to slur his words a bit more when he was really upset or excited, the faintest trace of what Charley could only assume was the Martian accent coming through.

It was Vincent, poor sweet Vinnie, that tended to mess up his words the most. Especially when he wasn't talking to a person face to face, and thus couldn't pick up the subtle ques and nuances from body language to subconsciously correct himself.

Case in point:

Charley was working late that night, cleaning up after a particularly nasty oil change that had somehow gotten completely out of control. And mostly all over her. When the phone in her office rang, she wiped off her hands and answered. "The Last Chance Garage, this is Charley"-

"Charley-girl, we've kind of got a problem here!"

She immediately tensed, ready to grab her laser pistol and head over. After all, they _never _outright asked for her help, it must be serious! "What? What is it, what's wrong?"

"We've tried everything and none of us can do it. How do you get cum out of your hair?"

Charlene blinked. Surely, she had mis-heard. "I beg your pardon?"

"How do you get cum out of your hair? Its getting all over the place!"

That's what she'd thought he'd said. There was a short moment of shocked silence, and then- "OH MY GOD, WHAT?! HOW DID IT GET IN YOUR HAIR?! WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?!"

Vincent sounded positively bewildered at her reaction. "What...Throttle had it in his mouth and Modo smacked him on the back and he accidentally spit it out on my head-"

"WHY DID HE HAVE THAT IN HIS MOUTH?! SCREW THAT, WHAT THE _HELL _DO YOU GUYS DO OVER THERE WHEN I'M NOT AROUND?!"

"We went to the store! Modo saw it by the register and it came in all these flavors-and what the hell am I explaining this to you for?!" he said indignantly.

Charley listened to Vinnie rant at her for another minute before she understood what had happened. She couldnt' help her face-palm. "Vinnie? Vinnie, Vinnie, listen to me! That stuff that comes in the packets and you take it out and chew, that's _gum_! Not," she blushed, "not cum, that's something completely different. You got _gum _stuck in your fur. Say it with me now, guh-um."

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "...are you really gonna make me do this?"

"Yes. You've already gotten into six fist-fights from mispronouncing your English, now say it. Guh-um."

"Guh-um."

"Thanks. Now go get some oil or grease, work it under and around the gum as best you can, and leave it for about three minutes. Then use a fork, get it under the gum as much as you can, then slowly pull the gum out. Keep using the oil when the gum pulls or sticks, and just keep working it out until its all gone. If that still doesn't work, get some straight alcohol, clean off the oil, find a couple of ice cubes, and use them to freeze the gum off. You got all that?" she said.

Vinnie sighed in exasperation as he answered, "Yeah, ice cubes and oil, I've got it." He frowned. "Hey sweetheart, if this stuff is gum, then what's cum? You never said."

"...gzzzzt, chhhk, what? Bzzt, you're- hiss- -eaking up- bzzt, bzzt, call you later, bye!" The phone hung up with a click.

Vincent frowned in confusion, then hung up the phone. "Damn it. Now I'm gonna have to go look it up."

* * *

OMAKE*

"WHY DID HE HAVE THAT IN HIS MOUTH?! SCREW THAT, WHAT THE _HELL _DO YOU GUYS DO OVER THERE WHEN I'M NOT AROUND?!" Now she sounded offended. "And why the hell didn't you invite me?!"

* * *

Lol! Sorry, couldn't resist. An omake* is a Japanese word, that means a retelling of a certain scene to be more funny. Let me know what you think!


End file.
